


House Sit

by thestarsarefalling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, F/M, Grieving, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4914973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsarefalling/pseuds/thestarsarefalling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is enlisted by Charlie Bradbury to house sit for her while she goes on vacation when her elusive housemate, Castiel, cannot. Over the course of ten days, Dean meets Castiel, and knowing that he would be leaving as soon as Charlie comes back, tries to avoid flirting with Castiel as much as he can, but those beautiful blue eyes seems to make the task impossible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am so very happy that I could participate in this year's DCBB (for the first time, too!) and am massively thankful for the beautiful artist that is pugglemuggle for being such a great person to work with!

Jobless. Homeless. Single.

And now after a big fight with Sam, Dean was at his wit’s end.

It wasn’t his fault that he got into a giant shouting match with a customer over something dumb, it wasn’t his fault that he accidentally forgot to pay two months of rent, and it wasn’t his fault that Lisa dumped him, but Dean could own up to the fact that all this stress did lead to him blowing up at Sam, taking all his frustrations up on his innocent little brother leading to some things spoken that Dean now regrets.

Now with any normal person they’d ask for help from family and friends with their unfortunate situation, but no, not Dean. The day that Dean asks for help with any of his problems would be the day that he was dying, and even then, he would convince himself that he wouldn’t want to lay his problems on anyone.

So what did Dean Winchester do? With no job, no home, no relationship to speak of, and a very tense relationship with his brother, Dean drove. He took his Impala and drove.

* * *

Dean was filling up at a gas station in the middle of nowhere when he got a call. It had been about a month of road tripping around the States and Dean was getting tired of sleeping in his car. As much as he loved his Baby he preferred a nice comfy bed. He would have stayed in motels, but looking at his savings and quickly prioritizing what he really needed to spend his money on he realized that he could only afford so many nights in a dingy motel room before he would be broke.

Broke.

Just another problem to add to his list of growing problems.

It seemed like the only ray of light was the phone call.

“Hello?” Dean answered the phone as he got into his car, trying to stave off the heat by fanning himself with an old map.

“Hey! Dean!” It was Charlie Bradbury, and her peppy voice was something that Dean would never tire of hearing.

“Hey Charlie. How’s it going!?” Dean smiled.

“Great,” Charlie paused before hesitantly continuing. “So I hear you’re taking a road trip?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dean’s smile dropped, realizing where she was probably steering this conversation. “Let me guess – Sam told you.”

Charlie nervously laughed, “yeah, but that’s not why I called.”

“Oh, good, so you’re not going to try and tell me to go back to California and apologize to him?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I mean, you should, but no. I was wondering if Seattle was on your list of stops?” Charlie asked.

Dean sighed, “uh, not really. I wasn’t planning on setting foot anywhere near the West coast for a while.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Charlie sighed as well.

“Why, what’s up kiddo?”

“It’s just,” Charlie took a breath, “I’m looking for someone to house sit for me for ten days. No one else who actually lives in Seattle could do it, and then I heard that you were road tripping and I thought if you were stopping close to Seattle that …”

“Okay, okay, I got it,” Dean stopped Charlie’s ramble, and half-jokingly continued. “So you’re using my unfortunate situation with my brother and my sad little life to your advantage.”

Dean thought about it quickly. The prospect of staying put for a week and a half with a bed for free was enticing. It wasn’t a hard decision. Sitting in the hot car was already making him yearn for something cooler in temperatures no matter where it may be.

“Well when you put it that way …,” Charlie sounded guilty over the phone, but Dean immediately interrupted.

“I’ll do it,” Dean spoke. “But you can’t tell Sam. I don’t need him driving up to come visit or whatever.”

“Yeah, sure!” Charlie was clearly excited. “I’ll pay you for food and everything. There’s just one thing …”

 “What?” of course there was a condition.

“I mean, I do have a roommate,” Charlie put it as if it were a question.

“Wait, I don’t get it. Can’t they just house sit for you, then?” Dean was rightfully confused, wondering why she would need Dean to do this when there was already someone _living there._

“Well, he kind of works really weird hours and we would need someone to take care of the cat,” Charlie stopped abruptly.

“The cat.”

“Yes, the cat.”

Dean made his sigh very audible. Anyone who knew Dean knew that he didn’t like cats. Dogs he could handle, but cats? Cats annoyed him.

“Charlie,” Dean began to remind Charlie of his dislike of cats, but Charlie interrupted.

“I know you hate cats, but she minds her own business. She only needs to be fed twice and her litter box emptied a few times a week. It’s super easy,” Charlie tried to placate him with the easiness of cat care-taking. “She’s the most stress-free cat.”

Dean grumbled but assented, “fine.”

“There is another thing …,” Charlie began but stopped. “Never mind.”

“What?”

“No, it’s nothing,” Charlie changed the subject. “So when can you get here?”

Dean looked at the barren landscape in front of him and then at his clock, “give me twelve hours and your address.”

 

****

Dean pulled up to the house around late afternoon and could see some movement through the windows. Getting out of his car, Dean took a few minutes to stretch his aching legs before walking to the door. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and grimaced – he probably should have stopped at that pit stop two hours back to take a shower, but what’s done is done. Walking to the front of the house Dean whistled at how nice everything was taken care of. The house itself wasn’t that big, enough to fit a small family, but the house looked recently renovated. Stepping onto the porch Dean lifted his hand to the door, but it opened before Dean could get a chance to knock. The next thing he knew there was a body pressed up against his and arms wrapped around him in a crushing hug.

“Dean!” Charlie’s red hair was everywhere.

“Kinda suffocating me,” Dean struggled to say, somewhat surprised at how much he missed Charlie’s hugs. 

Charlie immediately let go and Dean got a good look at her. Like the first time he met her, she was still sporting a nerdy t-shirt with a bright plaid shirt, but now she had her hair cut short and she was wearing an engagement ring.

“Wow, so you’re engaged,” Dean motioned at her ring. “That’s news.”

“Oh, yeah!” Charlie looked at her ring. “Did I totally forget to mention that?” 

Dean scoffed, “uh, yeah you kinda forgot.”

“Wow, well I suck,” Charlie took Dean’s hand and dragged him in. “Come meet my fiancée.”

Dean looked around her charming little house, “wow, very Tolkien.”

“Right?” Charlie looked back and smiled, and then stopped in front of another woman. “Dean, meet Gilda. Gilda, meet Dean.”

“Hello,” Gilda smiled politely as she continued to pack a few things into a bag. “It’s nice to meet you. Though I guess I also have to thank you for taking care of our home.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Dean smiled. “So, Charlie didn’t exactly mention where you guys are heading off.”

“Seriously? I’m just forgetting to tell you everything, aren’t I?” Charlie laughed. “Here, I’ll give you a tour of the house and we’ll talk.”

Charlie brought Dean over to the kitchen and showed Dean where everything was, “so, we’re going to Jasper. Like, in Canada?”

“Sure, yeah,” Dean was mentally memorizing where the utensils were.

“Gilda’s family is from there and so we’re going to spend a couple of weeks with them,” Charlie looked nervous. “I haven’t exactly met them, so I’m kind of worried that they won’t, well, like me. I think all this nervous energy has led to memory loss.”

Charlie led Dean to the master bedroom. Of course, Charlie had two swords hanging right above the bed.

"Charlie, I’m sure they will. Canadians are nice. They’ll love you. Everyone loves you,” Dean spoke to her as she picked at a spot on her sweater. “And if they don’t, then screw them.”

Charlie looked up and smiled at the sentiment, “Thanks, Dean. Anyways, this is where you’ll be sleeping. There are extra linens in the linen closet outside and the bathroom is just inside here. There’s another bathroom right outside by the office.”

Dean took a peek inside the bathroom before Charlie showed him the office, “There’s a computer in here if you want to use it. The password is ‘captainslog.’ One word, no capitals, or symbols.”

Dean laughed at her, and rolled his eyes at her nerdiness. Next, Charlie showed him where all the tools and cleaning supplies were located in the furnished basement. The basement suite was furnished quite differently than the upstairs area. Whereas the upstairs literally looked like something out of the pages of The Hobbit, the basement was more contemporary with a modern living room.

“And finally, this is where Castiel sleeps,” Charlie pointed to a closed door in the basement.

“Castiel? What kind of name is that?” Dean wondered.

“Dunno. You’ll have to ask him if you ever see him. Heard it’s named after an angel,” Charlie shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t really see him that often because he goes to work early and comes home late. He keeps to himself. You’ll find that all the food in the kitchen is labelled, so maybe try not to eat his food?”

“Sounds like a weirdo,” Dean gave her the side eye.

“He’s nice and … dreamy,” Charlie cleared her throat. “Gilda and him work at the University of Washington, so that’s how they know each other. Anyways, let me introduce you to the cat.”

Bringing him back upstairs, Charlie stopped right at the fridge and put her hands up. Dean saw what she was doing and moved away. Sitting on top was a black cat with bright green eyes.

“And this here is Clarice,” Charlie pet her cat and then put her down.

Dean watched as Clarice wandered around him.

“All the cat food is right here. Give her half a can of the wet stuff in the morning, and then about half a cup of the dry stuff in the evening. Clean out the litter box every other day, and you’re good,” the litter box was just a step away from the food, and right by the cat door. “The cat will wander out and in, but she’ll always come back. Sounds good?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Dean nodded. “Seems easy enough.”

“Cool, let’s get you some groceries,” Charlie smiled.

The trip to the grocery store was uneventful, with Charlie pointing out some interesting stores and places along the way. Charlie didn’t mind spending any expense at the grocers, so Dean bought a week’s worth of food. They talked about work - and Dean’s lack thereof - family, and what Charlie would be doing in Jasper. Lastly, she gave instruction on the plants needing to be watered.

“So yeah, if you need anything, let me know. Or if you just want to text for no reason, do it because it’s going to be a long trip,” Charlie said as they brought the groceries inside the house.

"Sounds good,” Dean began putting things away, also mentally preparing his next meal.

“Oh, can you give me your email address?” Charlie asked out of nowhere with a pen and pad of paper in her hand

“Uh, sure?” Dean wrote it down. “Why? You have my phone number.”

“So I can send you some money,” Charlie took the piece of paper from his hand.

“What? Why?” Dean was slightly confused. “I’m staying at your house for free, you paid for groceries, and you’re giving me money?”

“Dude, just say thank you and accept it,” Charlie put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s not a big sum, anyways.”

“Fine,” Dean rolled his eyes - if it were anyone else, he'd adamantly refuse. “Thank you.”

Gilda appeared from around the corner, “Charlie? Everything’s packed up. Ready to go?”

“Yeah, ready!” Charlie pocketed the piece of paper and then turned to Dean. “Dean, thanks so much for doing this. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

“Nah, it’s no big deal. Thanks for asking me, I guess,” Dean hugged her. “Have fun on your trip!”

Charlie grabbed a bag, handed Dean the keys, and headed out, leaving Dean with an empty house. The silence of it all was a bit odd and Dean wasn’t exactly sure what to do next. He didn’t exactly have a job to go to, the cat was out, the plants were watered, and the kitchen was stocked. Dean aimlessly wandered the house again to look for something to do. Being the little ass that he was he made his way down to the basement and peered inside Castiel’s bedroom. Sure, it was a little creepy, but Dean needed to know a little more about the guy that was barely home. Stepping inside, Dean noticed that everything seemed to be neat and orderly except for the guy’s desk, which was piled with papers and sketches. Not wanting to be too snoopy Dean took a few glances, but couldn’t make out the foreign language littering the pages. Shrugging, Dean shut the door and made his way back upstairs.

Dean’s stomach rumbled immediately as soon as he stepped in the kitchen. Luckily for him the kitchen was stocked so he had a decent choice of ingredients to put together into a meal. Not wanting to wait too long for something to cook, he decided to make a quick pasta dish. He nearly jumped backwards when he felt something around his legs, but realized quickly it was just the cat.

“God damn it,” Dean muttered to himself.

The cat was staring at him and then towards the cat bowl. Of course, she wanted to be fed. After stirring his pasta one more time, he grabbed the bag of cat food and poured some cat food into the bowl.

“Looks like half a cup,” Dean put his hands on his hips. “There, go and eat.”

As if Clarice was listening to him, Clarice immediately began to chow down on her food. Dean joined her momentarily with his own dish, slowly grasping the fact that this was the first homemade meal he’d had in over a month. It was sad to think that in just nine days, he’d be back on the road doing … something. That thought was enough to bring him to bed early that night, and Dean wouldn’t hear the sound of the front door opening to Castiel returning home from another late night shift at work.

 

Dean woke up to loud meowing and a face full of black fur in his face.

“Gross,” Dean blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

Dean had fallen asleep in last night’s clothes, not even bothering to change. Looking at his watch he realized it was nearly noon. He could now understand why Clarice was all up in his face being loud.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re hungry. Get in line,” Dean pushed the covers off himself and walked to the kitchen.

Clarice raced past him and patiently waited for Dean to give her food. He spooned the wet food into the bowl and put it in front of her.

“Now who’s gonna feed me? Huh?” Dean looked at Clarice, who just happened to look at him when he spoke, but returned to eating.

Dean noticed the coffee cup and plate sitting in the sink. Understanding that it must have belonged to the elusive Castiel, Dean put them in the dishwasher for him.

“Great, a weirdo and lazy,” Dean muttered to himself.

Clarice meowed.

“Are you agreeing with me?” Dean was surprised at the response, but Clarice just ducked her head and continued eating, and then darted out of the cat door.

After washing up and brushing his teeth, Dean got to work in preparing something to eat. He opened the fridge and immediately noticed that the leftover pasta he put away had disappeared. Dean narrowed his eyes concluding that Castiel had definitely taken it. Rolling his eyes Dean grabbed some random things from the fridge and put them together, managing to create something just short of gourmet. He smiled at his accomplishment.

He took a seat in the living room and turned on the television. As if the TV knew of Dean’s show preferences, Dr. Sexy came back on after a commercial break. Dean settled in, ate his food, and enjoyed his show. About five episodes in – it turned out there was a marathon on – Dean’s phone beeped.

Charlie (4:53 pm): _Just left Vancouver, heading to Jasper now. How’re things going on your front?_

Dean moved his head to look around the house. Everything was still standing and the cat wasn’t dead. He ticked that off as a win in his books.

Dean (4:55 pm): _So far so good. How’s the drive?_

Charlie (4:58 pm): _meh._

Dean (5:00 pm): _sounds riveting._

Charlie (5:01 pm): _Wow, look at your pretty face being smart with your big words. LOL ;P_

Dean (5:02 pm): _stfu, I read._

Charlie (5:05 pm): _Meet Castiel yet?_

Dean (5:08 pm): _No. Though I think he stole some of my leftover pasta I made last night. Does he usually do that?_

Charlie (5:10 pm): _LOL. Not usually, though we do leave leftovers for him sometimes. It must have looked really good. Probably what I would have done._

Dean (5:13 pm): _Yeah, but I know you. I don’t know_ him _._

Charlie (5:17 pm): _Well then I guess you gotta talk to him about eating your leftovers._

Dean (5:18 pm): _That’s if I ever see him. What does he even do anyways?_

Charlie (5:20 pm): _He’s a library archivist or something? Never got the full job description from him._

Dean (5:22 pm): _Whatever. Anyways, gotta go feed your cat. Text you soon._

Dean forced himself off the couch to put his dishes in the dishwasher. He didn’t really intend to sit in front of the TV for nearly five hours, but it happened, and he was hungry again. Clarice also made an appearance by meowing once in the kitchen to let Dean know of her intentions. Feeding her first, Dean opened the fridge and stood there contemplating his next meal. This time he actually looked at the contents inside and noticed how weirdly organized all the food was on Castiel’s end. Almost everything was organic or just really healthy. God, Sam would probably love this guy.

Feeling tremendously lazy Dean just ordered pizza, eating it on the patio with a couple cans of ice-cold beer to wash it down. Dean watched Clarice explore around the backyard. There wasn’t much in it – just a garden that Dean needed to water and a nice large tree sitting in the corner, but at least sitting outside reminded him that he needed to water these plants.

He grumbled as he got up from his comfy spot on the patio, but the light was fading from the sky so there was no time to waste. Everything was already hooked up, thanks to Charlie, so all Dean really needed to do was to set the timer and let the water do its thing, except it was never that easy. Something was blocking the water flow as shown by the pathetic attempt by the sprinkler to shoot out water. Dean followed the hose, but nothing was twisted or stopping the water. Looking at the sprinkler Dean noticed that the valve was just slightly crooked, making the water come out in weird bursts. Clarice had somehow made her way to Dean’s side, obviously noticing the confusion coming off of Dean’s face, but following him was a bad idea on her part. As soon as Dean turned the valve to its right position the water billowed out in a giant arc, drenching Dean and Clarice in one go.

Dean just groaned. Clarice, on the other hand, shrieked and ran up the tree.

“Damn it,” Dean watched her before losing her in the branches.

Dean wiped his wet face with his t-shirt before going back inside. Dean reached for his phone before towelling off the rest of him.

Dean (8:31 pm): _So should I be worried if your cat ran up your tree?_

Dean didn’t get a response from Charlie right away, so he took the opportunity to bring in his garbage and then take a shower.

Charlie (9:15 pm): _Not unless she starts meowing. Then you’ll wanna try and grab her down if she’s stuck._

Dean turned on the dim porch light and went back outside. The sprinkler was done and shut itself off, so he moved it aside. So far, he heard no meowing, but then again, it was so dark that he couldn’t even see the black cat in the tree branches anyways.

“Uh,” Dean scratched his head. “Clarice?”

Dean heard soft meowing coming from high up in the tree.

“Seriously?”

Not really knowing what to do – it wasn’t like saving cats stuck in trees were things that Dean typically does – he went back inside and gathered some tools to help him grab the stupid cat. With a ladder, flashlight, a jacket, and proper shoes worn, Dean set out once more to save Clarice.

Dean set the ladder down and propped it up against the trunk. Before climbing up, Dean shook the ladder a bit to make sure it wouldn't fall. Eventually Dean began to climb up, cursing the fact that he had to do this. Holding the lit flashlight he pointed it towards the top.

“Clarice?” Dean called out.

A faint meowing came out, and then a louder one when Dean flashed the light right into her eyes.

“Gotcha.”

Clarice was a bit higher than Dean expected, and there weren’t enough rungs on the short ladder for him to reach her. Placing one foot on a sturdy branch, and one hand grasping another he hoped would hold him, Dean climbed up slowly. With the flashlight in his mouth he moved upwards.

“Cah-reefe!” Dean tried to call out to her. “Co’ here!”

With a few more steps and one shaky hand reaching out he managed to grab her. Luckily for him she didn’t put up any fight. Suddenly, a door in Charlie’s house slammed shut, making Dean lose his footing and sending him and Clarice barrelling to the ground. Clarice landed on all-fours, but Dean wasn't so lucky. 

“Ah, shit!” Dean groaned as he laid with his back on the ground. Clarice had already run off, a little shaken from the fall.

“Hey!” a deep, gravelly voice shouted from within inside the house.

Dean was still reeling from the fall that he didn’t notice the man, whom he assumed was Castiel, approaching him until he stood right over top.

“Damn cat,” Dean mumbled to himself.

“Are you a burglar?” Castiel asked, a bit dumbly.

Dean rubbed his head and then finally sat up, still not looking at the man, “What? No. I’m Dean. I’m house sitting for Charlie.”

It looked as if Castiel was contemplating that statement before he made any movements. A hand was then held in front of Dean offering him help in getting up. Dean took the warm, soft hand and stood up. 

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. The cat just got stuck in the tree,” Dean shook his head and took a few shaky steps back to the house, leaving Castiel to follow.

Dean opened the back door and stepped inside. Clarice was sitting on the sofa seemingly unfazed by it all.

“Oh, wait,” Castiel grabbed Dean’s shoulder and spun him around. “You’re bleeding.”

Dean finally got a good look at Castiel under the bright lights of Charlie’s house. In all honesty, Dean expected to be standing in front of some weird, lanky guy in his early twenties filling out the stereotypical sight of what a nerd is supposed to be. What Dean didn’t expect to see from an archivist were those bright, blue, curious eyes, and those lips that demanded to be kissed by the next available person. Dean gulped.

“What? Where?”

Dean followed Castiel into the kitchen, and was instructed to sit on one of the bar stools as Castiel immediately grabbed a paper towel. He wetted it a bit, and then pressed it behind Dean’s left ear.

“So you’re Castiel,” Dean spoke in order to avoid any awkward silences – it was still kind of awkward with Castiel just standing in front of Dean holding a wet paper cloth to his ear – but fortunately they didn’t break any personal bubbles, though it was close. “The man named after an angel.”

“And you’re Dean Winchester,” Castiel’s eyes flicked from Dean’s to the spot on Dean’s ear. “I apologize for thinking that you were a burglar. In hindsight, burglars don’t usually use trees as escape routes or entrances, especially when there is a gate door right beside. I should have made the connection sooner.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile at Castiel’s little rambling comment, “dude, it’s fine. I probably would have thought the same if I saw some random guy in my backyard.”

Castiel stilled, staring at Dean, “how long have you been here?”

Dean looked away for a second, the gaze just a little too intimidating, “two days.”

Castiel’s eyes widened, then looked down in guilt, “I … uh, I may have accidentally taken your pasta.”

Dean’s confused face softened into a small smile, “I was actually going to ask you about that.”

“I thought that Charlie or Gilda had left that out. I was called in early for work this morning and couldn’t prepare anything for myself. I must have confused the days of when they were leaving and when you were arriving. I am so sorry,” Castiel shook his head, removing the bloody paper towel away from Dean’s skin. “That won’t happen again.”

Every single presumption that Dean had about Castiel began to shatter one by one. He was still kind of a weirdo, but in the most adorable sense.

Dean’s train of thought stopped there. _Whoa._ Dean thought to himself. _Adorable? Where did that come from?_ Initially, Dean was going to chew this guy out for eating his food!

“Uh, yeah, whatever,” Dean cleared his throat, now pulling away from Castiel with the excuse of checking out the damage in a mirror.

In the bathroom, Dean placed his hands on the countertop and leaned on them. Taking in a deep breath, he forced himself to not focus on the handsome man in the room a few steps away. Rummaging in Charlie and Gilda’s vanity mirror, Dean found a bandage for his little cut but couldn’t find where the cut was.

“Um, Castiel?” Dean opened the door and stuck his head out of the bathroom.

A few steps later, “yes?”

“Could you, um,” Dean held out the Band-Aid.

Castiel nodded, “of course.”

Dean watched Castiel fiddle with the packaging, and his thoughts wandered dangerously into what else Castiel could do with his soft hands. Those thoughts stopped when Castiel stepped close into Dean’s personal space, crowding him in the bathroom with only the counter to lean on. Castiel was close enough that Dean could feel his body heat radiating off of him. Dean wanted to smirk at how concentrated Castiel was looking with the task at hand, but he didn’t think he could take it if those blue eyes were to connect with his, so Dean remained as stoic as possible. When Castiel finally stepped away, he did so without making eye contact with Dean but focusing his gaze on the Band-Aid.

“Thanks,” Dean nodded quickly, his face reddening.

“Anytime,” Castiel ducked out of the bathroom quickly. “Good night, Dean.”

When Dean heard Castiel safely pad away to the kitchen and then downstairs to his room, Dean softly walked to grab his phone then closed the door in his own bedroom.         

Dean (9:45 pm): _Weird question, but what’s Castiel’s deal?_

Dean impatiently waited for a reply, choosing to pace around the bedroom.

Charlie (9:55 pm): _What do you mean?_

Dean (9:56 pm): _Like, is he single, taken? Gay, straight, other?_

Charlie (9:57 pm): _I think so? I don’t know. Why?_

Charlie (9:58 pm): _wait_  

Charlie (9:58 pm): _Are you telling me?_

Charlie (9:59 pm): _DEAN. DO YOU LIKE GUYS TOO?!_

Dean looked at his phone confused. Dean had known Charlie for three years. Did his sexuality never come up? Thinking about his long-term relationships in the last three years he supposed he only exclusively dated Lisa. There were flings, here and there with all types of people, but it’s not like he advertised these. Charlie and him didn’t really talk that much over the last year either, evident through finding about her engagement, so he supposed it was a bit of a surprise to her to find out that he was bisexual.

Dean (10:03 pm): _Yeah._

Charlie (10:04 pm): _Dude, nice._ _I need more details when I come back._

Dean scoffed, but smiled. He expected that sort of reaction from her. A little while later, Charlie texted one last text for the night.

Charlie (10:15 pm): _But sorry, I have no idea what his deal is. Gilda doesn’t either. Guess you’ll have to find out for yourself ;)_

Dean woke up with the realization that he didn’t want to pursue anything with Castiel at all. Charlie made it seem like she was okay should something happen, but in reality, Dean was leaving once Charlie and Gilda came back. Sure, he could have a fling with Castiel in the next few short days, but there was the problem of what would happen if Dean made a connection that was stronger than he anticipated. What if he fell in love with the guy?

Dean laughed at the thought – he wasn’t a relationship type of guy as evident by his last “long-term” relationship. Nevertheless, as long as Dean kept his hands to himself, he could totally make it through the next week without wanting to get into Castiel’s pants. Even so, he wasn’t even sure if Castiel wanted anything to do with a homeless, broke, and jobless man such as Dean.

What Dean didn’t expect to see the next morning – okay, noon – was Castiel standing with his back facing him in the kitchen seemingly making a giant mess on the kitchen counter. Stopping in his spot, Dean tried to recall what day it was.

 “It’s a Wednesday,” Dean accidentally said out loud.

 Castiel turned around, equally surprised to see Dean standing by the entry way, “oh, uh, good afternoon, Dean. Sorry, I didn’t catch what you said?”

Castiel wiped his hands on his trousers and it gave Dean a peek at what Castiel was doing. It looked like he was trying to cut vegetables, but the streak of flour on Castiel’s left cheek told him differently.

“Oh, um, just that it’s Wednesday,” Dean maintained eye contact with that streak of flour. “Shouldn’t you be at work or something?”

There was a flash of recognition in Castiel’s eyes, and his expression softened, “Wednesdays are my day off. Sometimes I’m called in on the weekends, so I thought it best to have at least one day in the week, especially the one in the middle, to have off.”

“Ah, makes sense,” Dean started to nudge closer inside the kitchen. “Whatcha making there?”

Castiel nervously chuckled, “I was trying to recreate your pasta that I accidentally ate as a token to repay you. It’s … not going as well as I hoped.”

Dean’s heart had to warm at the sentiment.

“Here, let me show you how it’s done,” Dean inadvertently winked.

Dean looked and made a list of what was done and what needed to be cooked. Castiel got the basic parts done: he cut the necessary vegetables and took out the dry pasta. All that was needed was the spices for a sauce. While Dean began to boil some water, Dean grabbed the spices he used and the ingredients he used for the sauce.

“It’s nothing without these,” Dean held them up for Castiel to see.

“You don’t measure them?” Castiel wondered.

“Nah, when you taste it, you know,” Dean spiced up the little sauce mixture he had going, turning it down to a lower heat setting when he was ready.

Castiel stood close by watching inquisitively. The attention made Dean a bit flustered and he could feel his cheeks reddening, but if Castiel were to mention it, he could totally blame it on the boiling water. Dean wasn’t completely sure why Castiel was so suddenly close.

“Now, I gotta ask you a question,” Dean poured the dry pasta in, stirring it as he went. “Why do you have flour on your cheek?”

Castiel’s hand immediately went up and to his right cheek, “did I get it?”

Dean turned around and looked, “Uh, other cheek.”

Castiel swiped at his cheek again, but missed once more.

“Here,” Dean hesitated, but went for it anyway, swiping his thumb over Castiel’s left cheekbone.

Castiel didn’t back away from the touch, telling Dean a few things. Dean cleared his throat and returned to stirring, looking a little too concentrated on the simple task. Castiel, on the other hand, tilted his head, which Dean could see in his peripheral.

“I, um, wanted to make some pancakes this morning, but that didn’t go well either,” Castiel leaned against the kitchen island and scratched his bed head, responding rather coolly.

“Guess you aren’t a natural cook, huh?” Dean chuckled.

“Not exactly. Cooking is a science, and I did not do well in my science courses in school,” Castiel walked towards the stove. “For instance, how do you know when the pasta is ready?”

“You do this,” Dean spooned one pasta shell up, blew on it, and ate it. “If it feels like it’s still a bit on the hard side, it’s ready.”

“Well, I suppose I better trust your judgement,” Castiel smirked, and then walked towards the cabinet holding the bowls and plates.

Dean poured the pasta into the strainer and plated everything. Castiel continued to watch with curious eyes never leaving Dean. Dean could feel Castiel eye his every movement and it was both unnerving and, to be honest, kind of hot - Dean was enjoying this attention. 

“Here we go,” Dean placed two plates down on the table. “Bon appétit!”

As if in slow motion, Dean watched as Castiel open his lips and placed the spoonful of pasta into his mouth. Castiel licked his lips and actually moaned. He had to be doing that on purpose.

“This is fantastic,” Castiel spoke while chewing. "Better than the leftovers."

Dean could feel his body heat rising again and he scolded himself for succumbing to flattery too easily.

“So are you a chef, then?” Castiel asked in between bites. “Charlie didn’t really tell me much about you or what you do.”

Dean shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling nervously at the same time, “uh, no. I’m not. I use to work as a mechanic, but I got … laid off. Been road tripping since.”

Dean waited for the inevitable face of judgement coming from revealing his lack of employment, but it never came. 

“I think you should become one,” Castiel said genuinely as he took another bite. “A chef.”

“The only thing you’ve ever had that I made is this pasta,” Dean scoffed, taking a bite of his own food. 

“Fine, then make me something else,” Castiel said cheekily. “I bet you that will only solidify my opinion more. 

Dean rolled his eyes playfully at Castiel, totally game for some harmless flirting, “alright then, Mr. Can’t-Make-Pancakes.”

“You’d think that working with books all day I would have come across one good recipe,” Castiel tried to defend himself. 

Dean recalled what Charlie told him about Castiel’s job, but not wanting to end the conversation just yet, Dean asked, “What do you do?”

“I work as an archivist at the college,” Castiel said automatically. “I work in this department that houses rare artifacts and books that I frequently get to see and handle, but most of the time I’m just making sure everything is where it should be.”

“And that requires getting up early and coming home late?” Dean was legitimately curious.

“Occasionally the college will requisition something old and rare, and since I’m the only one qualified to handle it, they call me in,” Castiel shrugged, taking another spoonful of pasta into his mouth.

“And they couldn’t wait for a more reasonable time?” honestly, Dean felt bad for the guy’s random work hours – must have been hard to have a social life.

“Sometimes they do. Most of the time they just want to dump the responsibility of handling something that expensive and priceless onto the next idiot no matter the time of day. And that idiot is me,” Castiel gave a big, fake grin, followed by a laugh.

“So is that what caused the theft of my leftovers?” Dean teased.

Castiel gave him another grin – and if Dean melted a little, he would never say, “Yes, you can say that. They received an old, priceless tablet. Nobody had warned me about it the day previous, so when I got the call that morning that ten people were waiting for me to handle the artifact, I rushed there as quickly as possible.”

“Wow, all that fanfare for a tablet,” Dean raised a brow. “Y’all need to hire someone to help you.”

“You have to see it for yourself. It is kind of amazing,” Castiel shrugged. "If you know someone who is qualified and is willing to work in a university archive at ridiculous hours, let me know. All the other employees are students and they don’t even get to have a glimpse at the Vault. I think that’s why most of them quit, to be honest.”

“The Vault?”

“Yes, that’s what I call it. It’s just a temperature and humidity controlled room that stores all the books and artifacts, but it’s so heavily laced with security that only the right credentials will get you in. Thus, the Vault,” Castiel dramatically ate the last bite of his pasta. "Now that, Dean Winchester, was absolutely fantastic."

Dean noticed the empty bowl and jumped in, “what’s your favourite food?”

“Burgers,” Castiel said without hesitation as if the abrupt change in topic didn’t matter at all. “They make me very happy.”

Castiel got up and placed his plate in the dishwasher, “If you want, I could bring you to the vault. Maybe show you the tablet.”

“Seriously?” Dean perked up a bit. “Wouldn’t that be, like, against your security protocol?”

“Probably, but it’s not like they can fire me. Being the only full time, experienced archivist gives me job security,” Castiel said mischievously. “So what do you think?”

“I think that would actually be pretty cool,” Dean sat back and crossed his arms. “Totally Indiana Jones.”

“Like who?” Castiel looked at him, confused. 

“Indiana Jones,” Dean repeated, but received the same confused look. “Have you never watched Indiana Jones?”

Castiel shook his head.

Dean blinked a few times, “you’re an archivist and you’ve never seen Indiana Jones. He’s an archaeologist and basically does what you do!”

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, the hours I work usually don’t permit a lot of movie watching,” Castiel pointed out.

“You have a point,” Dean smirked. “But, man, you gotta watch it someday.”

“Will do, Dean,” Castiel turned around and headed out the kitchen. “I’ll see you later. I have to run some errands.”

“Yeah, see you later,” Dean replied.

Dean listened to the sound of the door closing before he stood up, smiling as he did so. Castiel was an enigma passionate about his weird job and for some apparent reason Dean was inherently fascinated with him. Castiel was not the type Dean would usually go after; hell, the last guy he went for was Benny, and he was the complete opposite of Castiel. Whereas Benny was gruff, tough, and yet one of the sweetest guys Dean ever had the pleasure of getting to know, Castiel was formal, quiet, and complex in the way that Dean _needed_ to figure out because who has never seen Indiana Jones?!

Dean was becoming quickly attached to a man he just recently had a proper and decent conversation just minutes beforehand, and it scared him. This was not the plan. He knew that if he pursued anything, Dean was wholly afraid that he wouldn’t be able to let go by the end of the house sit if he developed the slightest romantic inclinations towards Castiel.

Taking a breath, Dean laid it out in front of him and worked through what he logically knew. He knew they both flirted, but Castiel’s response wasn’t what he expected whatsoever. Castiel acted somewhat confused, almost as if he never had someone flirt with him before – which Dean would not believe due to Castiel’s attractiveness – and yet, he invited Dean to the Vault, even teasing him with his cooking skills. In all honesty, Dean was back to where he started: still unsure if Castiel was interested, if he was single, and if he liked guys, but it shouldn’t have mattered anyways.

“Stop it, brain,” Dean sighed, reminding himself. “Stop thinking about him.”

As if the universe just hated him, he heard a notification coming from his phone in Charlie’s room. 

Charlie (12:46 pm): _So how’d it go? Charm Castiel to pieces yet?_

Dean (12:47 pm): _Not gonna go for it, Charles._

Charlie (12:49 pm): _What?! Why not?! :(_ _Castiel’s dreamy._

Dean (12:50 pm): _Not a good idea. I am leaving in a week._

Charlie (12:52 pm): _You need to get laid, bro._

Dean (12:52 pm): _shut up._

Charlie (12:53 pm): _Anyways, how’s everything going? Plants watered? Clarice not dead?_

“OH SHIT!” Dean realized that he forgot to feed Clarice in the morning.

Dean tried to look for Clarice, but the house was silent. When he passed by the bowl, though, he realized that there was still some fresh food left and he came to the conclusion that Castiel must have gotten up and fed her. Dean smiled, and then the smile dropped, wishing Castiel were more of the jerk that Dean assumed he was so that he wouldn’t like him as much.

To get his mind off of him, Dean did some housekeeping duties. The house was already pretty clean, but with the cat shedding hair everywhere, there was always opportunity to sweep. He started with the kitchen, moving onto the other living spaces, and then his bedroom. He stopped when he realized there was no more to clean besides Castiel’s area.

“Eh. Screw it,” Dean trekked downstairs and swept there. Turns out, there was copious amounts of cat hair there as well.

After all that sweeping, Dean had tuckered himself out and cursed Clarice for all the cat hair she left – more than a fistful – around Charlie’s house, but forced himself to prepare something for dinner. Texting Charlie that he was stealing whatever frozen chicken she had in the freezer, he prepped some spices and sides to go with it, thus leading to feeding time for Clarice. As Dean prepared her food, she stared at him with a smug face as if she knew he has spent hours literally cleaning after her. As Dean watched her eat, the door to the front door opened, and Dean heard two sets of footsteps tread through the foyer. Immediately, a man popped his head into the kitchen and locked eyes with Dean.

“Ah, there he is,” the man stomped in puffing his chest to make himself look bigger. “Dean-whatever-your-last-name-is. How dare you.”

Dean’s eyebrows immediately shot up at the man accusing him of doing … something.

“What?” Dean dumbly replied.

Castiel suddenly stepped into the kitchen with bags of groceries, “don’t listen to him, Dean. He’s just trying to understand why I invited you into the vault rather than him.”

“I … uh, sorry, who is he?” Dean tried to ask Castiel, but could feel the man’s eyes glued to him.

“Oh!” Castiel abruptly stopped what he was doing. “Sorry, for some reason I thought I had mentioned him.”

“Boyfriend?” Dean cautiously approached that subject.

“Aw, Cassie,” the man shimmied up close to Castiel, placing his arm around Castiel’s shoulders, igniting an unnecessary feeling of possessiveness in Dean, but it drained when the man spoke again. “He thinks we’re together.”

Castiel wriggled out of the man’s grasp, “Luckily, he is not. He’s my brother, Gabriel.”

“Gabriel Novak, at your service,” Gabriel performed an odd and over-the-top salute to Dean. “Now, tell me, Dean, why it is that you get to go into the vault, and yet, I, the most handsomest and charming man in this room who’s known Cassie since he was little, cannot?”

Fortunately, Castiel answered his brother before Dean could, “Because every time you come to visit, you break something. It’s an inevitable occurrence.”

“That’s not true!” Gabriel whined.

“There was the priceless vase two months ago, the mirror last year, and somehow, you managed to break the ceiling fan,” Castiel shook his head and rolled his eyes, putting the last of his groceries away. “And that’s just the more ridiculous ones. Today you actually broke a jar of pickles in the grocery store and you weren’t even holding it. So putting you in the vault, which is filled with priceless artifacts of immeasurable value, would equal in its destruction and a sure fire way to get me fired.”

Gabriel decided not to contest that, instead chuckling at his “accomplishments.”

“So what’s for dinner, Cassie?” Gabriel saddled up close to his brother. “We ordering in take out?”

“I suspect so,” Castiel sighed.

“You know,” Gabriel got close to Dean, yet still managed to hand Castiel his cell phone. “Though he got the brains of the family he didn’t get any real practical real-life skills. Can’t cook to save his life.”

“Thanks, Gabriel,” Castiel groaned as he unlocked Gabriel’s phone.

“Um, if you want, I can just make us food?” Dean blurted out as he watched Castiel type in a number.

“Wow, handsome and a cook?” Gabriel looked impressed. “If you ain’t gettin’ on this train, Cassie, I think I will.”

Castiel flushed a deep red and he looked away leading to Dean doing the same, “Yeah, uh, I have some chicken ready to go.  I think I have enough for all of us?”

“Are you sure?” Castiel managed to look Dean in the eye. “You’ve already made …”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine,” Dean interrupted, now committed to the idea of feeding everyone. “It’ll be ready in, like, half an hour.”

“Well, can I at least offer you some of the groceries that I bought?” Castiel asked. “I bought some broccoli, tomatoes, beans …”

“Tomatoes would work well, I think,” Dean nodded. “One or two should be good.”

Castiel wordlessly gave them to him as Gabriel looked on with amusement in his eyes.

After a pause, Gabriel dragged Castiel away from the kitchen, loudly announcing, “Cassie, care to help me with a little something?”

Dean shrugged off the weird moment between all of them and set out to make dinner. In all honesty, Dean just put things together through tasting it. He never bothered with a recipe. Dean grew up without recipe books and without any real guidance from anyone. When his mother died in his childhood and his father moved Sam and Dean from place to place, the responsibility of cooking fell on Dean’s shoulders, leading him to essentially wing it when it came to food. Cooking became therapeutic for Dean, but he couldn’t see it making him any money without having the proper credentials, which meant school and less time to work and support his broken family.

Dean could hear some muffled conversation from downstairs, and as he waited for the chicken to simmer he plated some rice. The smell of the all the aromas made his stomach loudly rumble, and he was glad that neither Castiel nor Gabriel could hear the embarrassing noise. A few more minutes passed by and Dean wasn’t sure if he was supposed to grab the two brothers, so he hesitantly made his way down to let them know the food was ready.

“… been single for forever,” Dean could hear Gabriel speak. 

Dean knocked on the door, “Hey guys? Food’s ready.”

The door immediately opened and Gabriel stood there with a wide smile, “sounds good, Dean-o.”

Gabriel walked past Dean and up to the kitchen, but Castiel stayed in his room with his head down as if embarrassed.

“You alright?” Dean asked, keeping a fair amount of distance between him and Castiel.

“Sure,” Castiel looked up and forced a smile.

Dean could tell that Castiel did not want to talk about whatever he and Gabriel discussed, so immediately dropping that train of thought, he moved on, patting Castiel on the shoulder, “come on, food’s gonna get cold.”

Castiel followed without needing to be told twice, and once they arrived in the kitchen, they saw Gabriel standing by the kitchen counter already stuffing his face.

“Dean,” Gabriel put his spoon down and chewed, his eyes wide.

“Yeah?” Dean was slightly afraid of the next thing that Gabriel was about to say, especially with the wild look in Gabriel's eyes.

“Marry me,” Gabriel spoke with his mouth full.

Dean laughed, “Right, of course.”

“I don’t know what you put in this, but I want more,” Gabriel motioned to his plate with his spoon. “And then I want make sweet, sweet love to it because it’s that good.”

“Dude, TMI,” Dean waved him off, grabbing his plate and Castiel’s from the counter and moving it to the living room.

Gabriel followed them after getting a second serving, loudly moaning to himself as he ate.

“Gabriel, please stop that,” Castiel said after the tenth loud moan.

“I can’t help it,” Gabriel turned towards Dean. “You’ve impressed me with your cooking skills, and I’m difficult to impress. Took months for Castiel’s last boyfriend to impress me.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel warned.

“What? It’s true!” Gabriel shrugged, trying to make himself look innocent.

Dean wasn’t quite sure if he should jump into the conversation, but thanks to Gabriel, he now knew that Castiel was into guys and was quite possibly single.

 _“Stop that! You’re not here to date him!”_ Dean had to remind himself.

“Now, tell me, Dean, what do you do for a living?” Gabriel placed his elbows on the table and leaned on his hands.

Dean looked at Castiel wondering what Gabriel was doing, but it looked like Castiel didn’t know either, “Uh, I was a mechanic?”

Gabriel perked up immediately, “was?”

Dean cleared his throat, “Yeah. Why?”

“Oh, no reason. What about family?” Gabriel asked next.

“Younger brother. That’s it,” Dean was beginning to get confused. “What’s with the interrogation?”

“Oh, nothing at all,” Gabriel said mysteriously, getting up with a flourish and exiting to the kitchen.

When Gabriel was out of earshot, Dean turned towards Castiel, “Your brother is kinda weird.”

Castiel smiled endearingly, “Surprisingly, he’s actually one of the more normal of all of my siblings.”

“He’s more normal than … how many siblings do you have?” Dean asked, placing his fork and knife down.

“Five,” Castiel recognized the surprised expression on Dean’s face – the one people typically give him when he divulges the amount of brothers and sisters he has. “Yes, large family. We are all adopted.”

“You know, that makes a lot of sense. You don’t exactly resemble Gabriel,” Dean pointed out. “So what makes him normal?”

“Well, it all comes down to jobs with my brothers and sisters. My older brother Michael works at the UN as a ‘Principal Political Affairs’ officer, whatever that means; the middle brother Uriel, who is slightly older than Gabriel, works for the CIA; my older sister Anna works as a fit model for various European fashion designers and occasionally does runway work; and finally, my younger sister Hannah is an astronautical engineer with NASA,” Castiel rattled off this information to Dean’s surprised staring, and then taking a breath, continued, “I work as an archivist and Gabriel, well, he owns a bakery in Portland.”

Dean whistled, “Now that’s an interesting group of people. I can see why Gabriel is the so-called normal one in the bunch.”

“They all also have odd hobbies and their jobs make it hard to really get together. Personality wise, however, Gabriel can be quite … outlandish,” Castiel chose the least offensive word to describe his brother.

“That seems mild,” Dean chuckled.

“He could be listening right now for all we know, and I want to make sure I don’t die from one of his pastries that he chooses to poison in order to spite me,” Castiel said it in a way that Dean wasn’t sure if that was a regular occurrence.

“Baker, huh? I’ve been to Portland a few times. Do I know the bakery?” Dean asked to keep conversation going.

“Possibly? Gabriel says his bakery is popular, but I haven’t actually had the chance to visit yet. It’s called Cake Hole?”

Dean’s jaw dropped, “Your brother owns Cake Hole? _The_ Cake Hole?”

Castiel seemed unfazed, “Yes, he does.”

“Cake Hole is probably one my favourite bakeries on this side of the States. They make the best pecan pie, the best … everything!” Dean laughed, utterly shocked by what he just learned. “And I just sat beside the owner. How did I not notice him before?”

“You seem star struck,” Castiel smirked.

Dean let that information sit before continuing, “okay, serious question. Do you get free pastries from him?”

“Occasionally, though I don’t have the sweet tooth that he does, so most of it is consumed by Charlie and Gilda,” Castiel shrugged.

“Okay, I need to marry into this family,” Dean half-joked. “Well, your brother did propose to me, maybe that’s my way in.”

Castiel tilted his head a little to the side, and then slowly spoke, “yes, I suppose it is. Though I would have to warn you, he does do a lot of practical jokes on everyone he’s ever dated.”

Dean scoffed, “totally wouldn’t stop me from getting free pies.”

“You’re that committed to pie and free pastries that you would marry my brother?” Castiel asked with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Yeah, or you,” Dean blurted out, snapping his mouth shut once he realized what he had said. “Uh, I …”

“Dean-o,” Gabriel decided that this was the best moment to reappear, giving Dean a chance to scold himself for saying _that._ “Can you bake?”

His brain was sputtering along trying to come up with an answer, but all that came out was, “uh…”

Gabriel looked at him for a few more seconds before interceding, “I’ll take that as a no… Anyways, I have to go, turns out they need me back in Portland. Something about a ten-tiered wedding cake, being understaffed, and god knows what else.”

In the time that Gabriel spoke, Dean realized that he hadn’t looked at Castiel to see what his reaction was. Dean dared to look at him and saw how calm Castiel was.

“Will you return?” Castiel looked at Gabriel seriously.

“Of course, baby bro,” Gabriel’s voice lowered. “I’ll be back before you know it for, well, you know.”

The way that Castiel and Gabriel spoke together told Dean that he wasn’t exactly privy to the conversation that the two were having. Gabriel returned to being the aloof man as soon as it got just a tad too serious in the room.

“See you in three days, Dean-o,” Gabriel pointed with his arm outstretched and pointed at him. “Anything you want from my bakeries?”

Dean nearly choked, “everything.”

“You got it,” Gabriel nodded as he grabbed his keys from the counter and walked out the door.

Dean dared a peek at Castiel, but he was stiff and his expression had darkened. Castiel immediately got up from the table once Gabriel left and took his plate with him, placing it in the dishwasher and leaving to his room without any more words for Dean, though Dean would not have it any other way, especially with what he accidentally said to him – he definitely preferred to not talk about _that_ and was glad that Castiel seemingly felt the same way. Perhaps his reaction meant that Castiel wasn’t interested in Dean at all, which was good for Dean, yet why did he still feel so shitty?

Dean placed his dishes in the dishwasher, turned it on, and went to the computer to do some mindless Internet surfing (because what else was he going to do?). When it got late into the night, Dean shuffled into Charlie’s bedroom, and got ready for bed. Castiel’s sudden mood change still got under his skin, but he told himself that it _probably_ wasn’t to do with him. He stared at the ceiling contemplating if he should talk to Castiel about it or to leave the matter entirely alone.

“Meow,” Clarice padded into the bedroom.

Dean turned his head, “Sleeping in here tonight, huh?”

Though it was in the dark, Dean watched Clarice jump onto the dresser to settle down there for the night.

“You better not be watching me sleep,” Dean said to her.

Clarice stretched and meowed at him, which gave him all the motivation to try and sleep.

 

 

Dean didn’t get much sleep that night. The fact that it also started raining heavily during the early hours of the morning resulting in very loud splattering of raindrops on the window made Dean wake earlier than he wanted. Feeling hellishly grumpy and still having the sour taste of the end of the dinner conversation in his mouth he trudged to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee started.

Clarice had woken up when she heard Dean moving around and followed him to the kitchen. Dean’s movements were zombie-like as he prepared Clarice’s food. Downing a cup of coffee Dean felt marginally better and ever so slightly awake, but looking at the clock and seeing that it was eight in the morning did not lift his spirits. He did notice a jar of peanut butter and a jar of jelly on the counter with some breadcrumbs close to it, letting Dean know that Castiel had left early that morning. The rain began to ebb as Dean drank his second cup, so he sat down in front of the TV and turned it on. He could hear the cat door swing as he changed the channel to something a bit more interesting than the morning news. Within an hour, though, the rain began to pick up again with the added noise of lightning and thunder. Dean didn’t really think anything of it and continued watching the movie Die Hard until he heard the sound of the cat door opening and water dripping onto the floor.

“Meow,” Clarice pathetically made a sound from the kitchen.

Dean got up and saw the pitiful sight in front of him that made his heart break. Clarice was completely drenched in water and her fur had become flattened to her body. She had the saddest expression on her face and it caused Dean to quickly grab the tea towel to dry her off.

“Oh, no, Claire-bear,” Dean picked her up and brought her to the bathroom, wondering where in the hell that nickname came from.

Dean rummaged around and managed to find a hair dryer. He wasn’t exactly sure if Clarice would respond well to it, so he set it on low and on a warm setting. Cautiously holding it far from her, he turned it on and directed the air towards her. Luckily for him, she enjoyed it, so Dean took the cat comb and began to comb her hair at the same time. He wasn’t exactly sure if he was doing it correctly, but she settled down onto the bathroom counter and let Dean continue.

When she was completely dry, Dean picked her up and put her on the floor. Instead of wandering the house though, Clarice followed Dean to the couch, settling on his lap as he continued to watch Die Hard. Clarice would let him know when she wanted to be petted through the various meows directed at him, and at first, he was reluctant, but she shot him that sad face and he complied. Over the rest of the rainy day, Dean continued to pet Clarice as they watched movies. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Dean laughed to himself with how well acquainted he became with Clarice. Who knew he could get along with a cat this well?!

Dinner came easily for the both of them. Having nearly all of his attention directed away from thinking about Castiel was surprisingly easy, and he thanked Clarice for taking up nearly the entire day with her incessant petting needs. It was only when Dean was left to his own thoughts as he ate his dinner did he wonder when Castiel would walk through the front door, but this didn’t happen till about 11 at night when Dean was fast asleep and Clarice was curled up at the foot of Dean’s bed.

 

 

The sky cleared up the next day, revealing a warm sun and beautiful blue skies – the kind of blue that matched up to a certain archivist’s eyes. Castiel must have left early again, for a different trail of breadcrumbs and the jar of peanut butter and jar of jelly were on the kitchen counter. Waking up before nine am didn’t seem to make a difference for Dean today.

For Dean, he had a bunch of anxious energy swirling around him, with something telling him that Castiel was actively avoiding him. Of course, there could have been a simple reason for it all, but Dean focused on the reason that he himself had caused the bad air.

Clarice nudged her head on Dean’s legs, and it made him snap out of his train of thought.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s coming,” Dean said, preparing the cat food for her. “Do you know when Castiel goes to work?”

Clarice looked at Dean for a moment before yawning.

“Is that supposed to mean early? Like, really early?” Dean kneeled and put the bowl of food down.

She meowed then turned her attention to the bowl of food.

“You’re no help,” Dean grumbled.

After feeding Clarice, Dean decided that he sorely needed to get out of the house. He had spent five days cooped up doing almost nothing. Quickly Googling a few touristy things – he literally Googled “things to do in Seattle” – Dean found himself with a fairly sizable list of things to do, with the music museum at the top. Texting Charlie about it, Dean found out she had a membership that he could borrow and he wondered how often she visited.

Dean took his Impala out for a ride to these various places, but cursed at how much he ended up spending on parking. He did enjoy the view though, and found Seattle to be quite a nice, chill city.

Walking into the Music Museum Dean immediately felt at home. The exhibits certainly caught Dean’s eyes, and he thoroughly enjoyed the section on Led Zeppelin. Walking past the Space Needle on his way out he felt a little nauseated just thinking of the enormous height and what it would be like all the way up there. Dean Winchester has conquered a lot of things in his life, but his issues with heights would probably never be solved.

By the end of the day most of his list had been checked off – Pike Place (he bought way too many groceries), the Gum Wall, and a beer tour to name a few. But by the end of the day he had spent so much mental energy trying not to think of Castiel that he became quite exhausted. He returned back to the house to feed the cat and water the plants, then headed to bed early.

 

It was 6 am in the morning, and Dean had resolutely decided that he was going to apologize for whatever he might have done. He couldn’t leave on bad terms even if it would eventually keep Dean from getting into Castiel’s pants. He hoped that 6 am was early enough to catch Castiel heading to work. Stepping cautiously into the kitchen he noticed how quiet it was. Even Clarice, who slept right on Dean’s pillow this time, was just starting to wake up.

Making simple French toast, Dean saw from the corner of his eye that the crumbs and the jars of peanut butter and jelly that Castiel left out were still sitting on the counter in the exact same spot. Curiosity got the best of him and he dared to call out Castiel’s name. When there was no answer, Dean padded towards the basement and knocked on Castiel’s door.

“Hey, um, Castiel?” Dean slowly turned the knob but it only revealed an empty room with curtains drawn back to let sunshine in.

Dean took a tentative step inside, and pushed away the thoughts of how creepy this may have looked, and then headed straight for the almost perfectly made bed. When John Winchester had brought his sons from motel to motel after Mary’s death, there were nights where John didn’t come home. For Dean, it was important to know if his father had left early in the morning, so he checked to see if John did return sometime in the night by feeling the bedspread. Presently, Dean placed his hand under the comforter, but it was cold, telling Dean that not only had Castiel not slept in the bed whatsoever, but that he might not have been home since two mornings ago.

For some reason, Castiel’s disappearance was getting underneath Dean’s skin. Dean barely knew the guy, and yet, he felt some sort of pull towards him and that might have been the reason why Dean’s mind immediately went to the worst possible outcome – it didn’t help that his previous life experiences had an influencing factor. Dean gritted his teeth and looked around Castiel’s room for any sort of clue. Castiel had tidied up his desk, and the papers that Dean saw on the first day were gone. The only thing on his desk was a calendar with the current day’s date circled.

Dean drummed his fingers on the side of his leg, and an idea to phone Castiel popped up. Duh, why not text the guy and see where he is? 

Dean (6:35 am): _Hey, what’s Castiel’s number?_

Charlie (6:40 am): _Goddamn it’s early, and it’s only 7:40 here._

Charlie (6:42 am): _He doesn’t have a phone._

Of course, Castiel didn’t have a phone.

Charlie (6:55 am): _If you need Castiel, his brother, Gabriel is the one to call. Here’s his number –_

In the kitchen, Dean debated whether or not calling Gabriel was a good idea. Was he being way too overdramatic over where Castiel was? Surely he was fine. Right?

“Meow,” Clarice jumped up onto the kitchen table, nudging Dean to start petting her.

Dean found something soothing in petting Clarice and was, for once, a little glad that she existed.

“Should I phone Gabriel?” Dean asked her. “Meow once for yes or keep quiet for no.”

“Meow,” she looked at Dean briefly before she jumped back down to the floor, standing directly in front of her food bowl.

“Okay,” Dean gripped his phone. “Okay, I’ll call.”

“Meow,” Clarice looked down at her bowl.

“Okay, I’ll feed you and then I’ll call.”

A few minutes later Dean dialled the number, hoping that Gabriel was awake.

“Gabriel Novak, baker extraordinaire!” Gabriel answered quite cheerily.

“Gabriel? Hey, it’s Dean,” Dean spoke.

“Dean… which one?”

“The one that is house sitting for Charlie and Gilda? We met the other day?” Dean spoke.

“Ah! Of course, what can I do you for, Dean-o!” Gabriel asked.

“Okay, so I might be overacting here, but I’m pretty sure that Castiel hasn’t been home since two mornings ago. Does he do that often?” Dean asked.

Gabriel’s end had gone quiet and if it wasn’t for the sound of honking and the radio in the background, he might have thought that Gabriel had hung up, “Gabriel, are you still there?”

“Yeah,” Gabriel cleared his throat. “Damn it.”

“What?” Now Dean was starting to get a little more worried.

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” Gabriel asked.

“No, tell me what?”

“It’s better if I just come over and explain,” Gabriel said. “I’ll be there in an hour. I’m just on the road right now, but don’t worry, Castiel’s fine.” There was a pause. “For the most part. I’ll see you later.”

Gabriel hung up on Dean without any sort of explanation, but the way that Gabriel reacted to the news did not help lift Dean’s spirit. Oddly enough Clarice seemed to have noticed the anxiety and nervousness in the room, nudging Dean’s legs to get a petting. She wouldn’t leave to go outside either until Gabriel arrived an hour later, darting out the cat door as soon as he stepped through the front door.

“You busy?” Gabriel asked, looking at his watch.

“No, so where’s Castiel?” Dean asked impatiently.

“Most likely at the college. Most likely working,” Gabriel said. “Can you drive? My car’s almost out of gas. Didn’t have time to stop to get more.”

“Sure,” Dean said, grabbing his keys.

About two minutes into the drive Dean had to ask, “so what were you going to explain to me in person?”

Gabriel looked at Dean for a moment before understanding, “Today’s the anniversary of my mother’s death.”

As if the curtain was pulled back Dean immediately understood everything.

“Castiel was really close to her, and when she died, he took it very, very hard. This time of the year is very emotional for him,” Gabriel continued to explain. “Usually, he’ll try to block it out by constantly working. Really, he’ll try to block out any negative emotions by working. For a while, you were a good distraction."

“What do you mean?” Dean’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Gabriel’s head turned toward him, waggling his eyebrows.

Dean rolled his eyes, ignoring that.

“Yeah, and then he had to go and look at a calendar,” Gabriel sighed.

Dean remembered the circled date on Castiel’s calendar – it was hard to miss. 

“So he just doesn’t come home, then?” Dean asked, turning into the parking lot of the university and getting out of his car.

“Sometimes. The first year was like this. This year I think it’s hit him harder because it’s been 10 years to the day,” Gabriel sighed. “Come on, the building is this way.”

Dean followed Gabriel to a building just tucked right by the edge of the campus. The building was moderately sized, with what looked like 5 floors. There were a few college students walking in and out of the building, but it was otherwise not as busy as Dean expected. Gabriel led them both down the stairs and down a brightly lit hallway before stopping in front of a door that was labelled “staff only.”

“Are you sure?” Dean asked.

“Course, I’ve been here before,” Gabriel shrugged, opening the door slowly.

The room inside was the complete opposite of the brightly lit hallway. Whereas the hallway seemed way too overexposed and clinical, inside was warm, a bit dark, yet inviting. The room was cluttered with stacks of paper, packages, random posters and pictures lining all 4 walls. At the back of the room was one dim lamp lighting up a shadowy figure hunched over a desk. Walking quietly, Gabriel woke Castiel.

“Hey, Cassie?” Gabriel lightly shook him awake.

“Gabriel?” Castiel blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me,” Gabriel softly smiled as Dean looked on. “How long have you been here?”

“Dunno,” Castiel combed through his hair with his fingers.

“Well, I hate to say it, but it’s time,” Gabriel said solemnly.

Castiel’s expression immediately dropped, “Alright. Let me get changed. I brought a change of clothes.”

As soon as Castiel got up, he locked eyes with Dean, “Oh, Dean. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were here.”

“It’s no problem, Cas. Go get ready,” Dean softly spoke.

Castiel blinked a couple times before nodding, heading off to wherever he needed to be to go and change.

“So you can totally say no,” Gabriel began once Castiel had left the room. “But could you drive us both to the cemetery?”

“Why would I say no?” Dean asked, a little confused.

“I don’t know. Dead mother’s anniversary, sad family, sadder Castiel, you name it,” Gabriel shrugged, leafing through some of his brother’s papers. "Not many people want to be involved in something as random as this, especially with people they don't know."

Dean wanted to say that he knew what this was like, but he decided that it wasn’t in his place to share his own sob story, “I’ll drive. It’s no problem.”

“Thanks, Dean,” Gabriel said seriously.

Castiel emerged looking a little more decent than he was ten minutes ago, though he had deep-set shadows under his eyes and a growing beard that could use a shave. They all walked wordlessly to Dean’s car and Gabriel gave directions to the cemetery. During the ride, Castiel sat in the back seat looking aimlessly out the window as he shrunk inwards, the sadness eating him from the inside out. Dean could so easily relate and he wish he could comfort Castiel in some way. When they got to the cemetery, Castiel resembled what Clarice looked like when she got drenched in the rain and Dean sorely wanted to make it better, but instead he stuck to staying in the car as Gabriel helped guide Castiel to the group of people surrounding one particular headstone.

Dean watched as the group of people surrounded Gabriel and Castiel with hugs and pats on the back. In total, there were six of them and Dean guessed that they were all the siblings that Castiel was talking about. Castiel stood the furthest away from the headstone as one of his brother’s spoke. As Dean watched he thought about the next time he would visit his mother’s grave. It would be in a couple of months and he would stand around her grave with his brother. Dean sighed. If Mary were alive, she would scold them into reconciling. She would be ashamed of Dean if she were here. Dean took a look at the group of siblings and imagined him and Sam in their place. He would want to be as supportive to Sam as they were being. Dean sighed and pulled out his phone and began typing Sam’s number, but movement from the corner of his eye stopped him. Gabriel was walking towards the Impala and the other siblings were each heading to their own vehicles.

“Castiel’s just gonna have a few minutes to himself,” Gabriel said as he got in the backseat.

“He okay?” Dean asked, already knowing the answer.

“Not really. He overworked himself, so the exhaustion is probably already getting to him.”

Castiel, rubbing his eyes, walked back to the Impala with his head bowed. He got in the front seat and immediately looked out the window. Dean didn’t want to say anything when the emotions were still pretty raw, so he just drove them back to Charlie’s. As soon as they had gotten back to the house, Castiel immediately retreated to his room. Dean wanted to ask if he needed anything but Gabriel stopped him.

“It's what he does, he'll just wallow in self pity for a while when the rest of the family comes.”

“Sorry, what do you mean ‘when the rest of the family comes?’" Dean asked.

"You didn't think that was it, huh? The others are coming here to continue our celebration of life," when Dean looked confused at that expression, Gabriel jumped in again before Dean could ask questions. "It's a thing. Look it up.”

"So they're all just coming here,” Dean bluntly pointed out. “Do Charlie and Gilda know about this?”

“Yep. Think so. Let's get a-cooking.”

Dean blinked, slowly coming to realize that he had no idea what was happening, "again, sorry, what?”

“I may or may not have volunteered you to make us food," Gabriel innocently smiled.

Dean took a deep breath, and deciding to go with the flow, asked a couple questions about what Gabriel wanted him to make and whether he had enough time to do so. With all questions answered and some more groceries bought in addition to the ones he got at the market, Dean got to work. One by one each sibling arrived and by the arrival of the last sibling, Dean had finished cooking. Gabriel wasn't done with him yet, instead electing to introduce Dean to everyone.

“Hi, I'm Anna. I apologize on behalf of all of us about Gabriel," the beautiful redhead began.

"Hey!" Gabriel glared at her.

"He's a bit of a trickster, you have to understand, and when he said that Castiel's boyfriend was making us dinner, I thought he was lying, but clearly whatever I smell from the kitchen smells delicious," Anna rambled.

Gabriel snickered when Anna mentioned that one little false tidbit that Dean immediately wanted to correct, but Gabriel interrupted, “Yes, I can’t wait to dig in.”

“Mind if I take a peek?” Anna asked.

“Uh, no, go ahead,” Dean said, still trying to wrap his mind around the words “Castiel’s boyfriend.”

Once Anna left for the kitchen, Dean gave Gabriel his best bitch-face that he could muster, “Castiel’s boyfriend? You told them I’m Castiel’s boyfriend?”

“Okay, look,” Gabriel levelled with him. “Castiel hates when his siblings get all touchy feeling and clingy with him. By now each of them would have visited his room. By telling them that he has a boyfriend, they know he’s in good hands and doesn’t need to be babied by his siblings. They know you'll be the one babying him tonight.” 

Dean just glared.

“Come on. You seem like you could do it with all the heart eyes you and Cassie send to each other,” Gabriel continued before Dean could protest that statement. “Castiel won’t even come up, so he won’t know what’s happening. Come on, Dean-o.”

“If I say yes, will you get off my back for the rest of the night?”

“Maybe,” Gabriel had drawn that out.

Dean sighed, “done.”

The rest of the afternoon was filled with food, more introductions to the rest of the brothers and sisters, and fielding questions of his supposed relationship with Castiel. It was surprisingly pretty easy using half-truths with this family. When Uriel asked how Castiel and Dean met, Dean explained/lied that Charlie had introduced them. When Hannah asked how long Castiel and Dean have been together, Dean explained/lied that they’d been dating for a little while. When Michael asked why no one knew that Castiel had a boyfriend, Dean explained/lied that Castiel wanted to wait a bit before announcing anything. Luckily, Dean’s food shut them all up and they all began talking about how amazing it was and what Dean’s occupation was. They were all surprised that he was a former mechanic with no background in professional cooking, or as Dean nervously put it: “cheffing.”

Soon after they all left one-by-one, and Dean was finally able to take a breath.

“See, it wasn’t that bad, right?” Gabriel slapped Dean on the back. “Uriel’s kind of intimidating, but he has to be to work with the CIA.”

“I think he knew I was lying the whole time,” Dean shuddered.

“Meh, doesn’t matter,” Gabriel shrugged. “He enjoyed your food.”

“So is Castiel gonna be alright?” Dean focused on the more important elephant in the room. “Call it the concerned fake-boyfriend in me, but seriously, should we check up on him or something?”

“Yeah, now that everyone is gone he’ll be fine. He just needs to be alone, and having everyone here doesn’t exactly help with that,” Gabriel spoke, eating some of the leftovers at the same time.

“Hey! You gotta save some for Cas,” Dean swatted him away.

Gabriel smiled a large smile, “Since when did you start calling him Cas?”

Dean furrowed his brows, “Uh, I dunno. It’s just easier.”

“Nickname for your boyfriend - it’s cute,” Gabriel chuckled. “Anyways, I’m off. You have my number, so call me if there’s any issues.” 

Gabriel left, leaving Dean with a big mess to clean up. After putting away some leftovers, placing every dirty dish in the dishwasher, and then sweeping up the kitchen and dining room, Dean debated whether or not he should approach Castiel. Being a decent person and completely ignoring Gabriel’s advice, Dean decided to check and see if Cas was all right. Knocking softly on the door there was no answer, so Dean cracked the door open just a tad, only to see Castiel napping away. Gabriel was right about that – the exhaustion had clearly taken over. Dean returned to the upstairs landing to see Clarice waiting for him in the kitchen with a concerned look.

“He’s fine,” Dean crouched and pet her head. “Time to eat?”

“Meow,” she softly meowed and purred at the same time.

Just as he was preparing her food Dean’s own stomach rumbled and he realized that he didn’t eat anything when Castiel’s siblings were over. He was speaking so much he didn’t even get a chance to eat half of what was on his plate. Not really wanting to make anything too elaborate, and actually feeling a little nauseated from not eating, he decided to just make tomato rice soup. About half a bowl in, Castiel emerged in the kitchen with major bed head. Luckily, he looked too sleepy to notice the dopey face Dean was making as he half slurped his soup.

“Time to eat, Cas?” Dean neared him and resisted the urge to swipe his hand through his hair.

“Yes, please,” Castiel yawned and if that wasn’t the cutest thing Dean ever did see.

“Here, go sit on the couch, and I’ll go get your food,” Dean smiled softly.

Castiel shuffled to the couch and Clarice immediately followed him. Dean reheated Castiel’s leftovers and added a bowl of soup to the side.

“Here we go,” Dean set everything in front of Castiel on the coffee table as Clarice jumped onto the armchair directly facing them.

“Dean,” Castiel spoke softly.

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Would it be weird if I asked you to stay for a bit?” Castiel looked up at Dean.

“Course not,” Dean sat down beside him.

Dean watched Castiel eat for a bit before turning on the TV, leaving the volume fairly low. The whole scene was quite domestic and it made Dean’s heart both flutter and constrict with a sense of panic – domesticity was not his forte.

“So how are you doing?” Dean braved to ask _that_ question.

“Tired, not quite as sad, and terribly embarrassed,” Castiel said, taking a slurp of his soup.

“Embarrassed? What for?” Dean was rightfully confused.

“Dean, you’re only responsible for keeping the cat fed and the plants watered. That’s it. Instead, you’ve made meals for myself and my siblings, you went out of your way to clean this house almost top to bottom … you basically spent your entire day today chauffeuring Gabriel and I, and taking care of my family.”

Dean didn’t see it that way, “so?”

“So?” Castiel put his soup down. “So I’m grateful for everything you’ve done and more. I’ve never come across someone so kind, so I’m thankful and lucky that I have met you. Regardless of circumstance, I’m glad that it has brought you to this house.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to say to that, but his cheeks flushed red from the flattery, “thanks, Cas. I mean, it’s not the first time I had to deal with the passing of a family member.”

Castiel leaned forward a bit, telling Dean that he’d like to hear more, so Dean gave it to him even if he rarely spoke about it to others. There was something in those blue eyes that told Dean that it was okay to talk because Castiel would listen.

“I lost my mom too, but this was when I was a kid. I’d like to think I handled it better than my dad. Every year, around the same time as her death, he’d disappear and I’d have to take care of my younger brother, Sam. Even when my dad was around I still had to take care of him. So honestly, this isn’t the first time.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“I don’t think I ever did. My dad wasn’t my dad anymore and he wasn’t taking care of us, so I had to step up and be the grownup. It sucked, but that’s what I did. Definitely not the healthiest way to have dealt with her death,” Dean shrugged. “Every year I forget a little piece of her and it is terrifying and it hurts like hell, but I guess that’s life – people die, and so it goes.”

“Mm, Vonnegut.” Castiel nodded slightly, “my mom, she was an archaeologist and she used to tell me these stories of something that happened a hundred, a thousand years ago as if she were there, sometimes showing me an artifact too. It’s kind of why I wanted to become an archivist – to work with these pieces, to save and restore these pieces, and to be closer to her. The last story she ever told me was about angels. You know the tablet I mentioned a few days ago?”

Dean nodded.

“Turns out it’s in the language of angels. Enochian, they call it. The timing didn’t really work out with my mom’s … yeah,” Castiel dejectedly laughed, tears nearly forming in the corner of his eyes. “Look at me, a grown man blubbering on a couch.”

“Been there, done that,” Dean chuckled to lighten the mood.

Castiel shook his head, taking the bowl of soup and smiling softly, before looking up at Dean, “I really don’t know how you’re still here. Anyone else would run for the hills.”

“Guess I’m not ‘anyone else,’” Dean winked.

“Wow, very modest,” Castiel hid his smile in the spoonful of soup.

“Meow,” Clarice decided to add her input then and there.

“Are you agreeing with him, Claire-bear?” Dean tsked. “How dare you. So, Cas, how ‘bout a movie?”

“Sure,” Castiel nodded, shoulders relaxing into the couch as he finished the soup.

Dean chose something at random from Charlie’s collection. Sometime over the course of the movie the sun had begun to set and Castiel had slowly slumped to Dean’s side, and Dean didn’t mind. As the credits began to roll, Dean looked over to see Castiel had fallen asleep with a peaceful expression on his face. Clarice also looked like she was in a slumber. Trying his best to resist the temptation of pulling Castiel closer, Dean instead carefully extracted himself from Castiel’s side and placed a pillow underneath his head. Taking the dirty dishes and putting it in the kitchen, Dean searched the linen closet for an extra blanket. Finding one – it was also Star Wars themed (oh, Charlie) – Dean set it on Castiel’s body.

“Night, Cas.”  

Dean retreated to his room with Clarice following closely behind. If Dean fell asleep with the picture of blue eyes on his mind and a dumb, happy smile on his face, no one would ever be the wiser.

 

 

Dean woke to the sound of meowing in his ear. Ever since Clarice began sleeping on the same pillow where Dean’s head rested, it only gave her more opportunities to annoy Dean in the morning, but this time, he woke up with memories of the previous night to occupy his thoughts. Yawning, he looked over at the clock – it was almost 9. Shuffling out of the bedroom he noticed a splash of black hair peeking out from the edge of the couch. Thinking of leaving Castiel there instead of waking him up Dean made his way to the kitchen.

“What to eat, what to eat,” Dean said to himself while leaning against the kitchen island and tapping his chin.

Having the need to have something hearty, he took out bacon and sausages. Remembering the conversation he had with Castiel earlier in the week, Dean took out ingredients to make some fluffy pancakes – surely Castiel would enjoy that after the last few crap-tastic days.

The bacon and sausage sizzling in one pan and Dean mixing pancake batter was enough to stir Castiel from the sleeping world. Dean expected to see him find his way to his bedroom, but instead, he took a seat by the island and yawned loudly.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel said tiredly.

“Morning,” Dean smiled and looked at the sight in front of him – it was as if Castiel wasn’t an emotional wreck the previous day. “I have bacon and sausage and I just put the first two pancakes in the pan.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Castiel opened and closed his mouth together a few times. “My mouth feels gross.”

“Well, a good teeth brushing will help remedy that,” Dean glanced at Castiel before flipping the pancakes.

“Ugh, too lazy. Food smells too good,” Castiel whined.

Thinking on his feet, Dean grabbed an extra lemon wedge he had from last night, put that and a few ice cubes in a cup, and filled it with water, “here, this might help.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Can’t-Make-Pancakes,” Dean cheekily referred to their conversation. “So how are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks to you. May I ask if you have any plans today?” Castiel wondered, taking a gulp of his water.

“Nada,” Dean motioned it with his spatula. “Why?”

“As a thank you for everything you’ve done, I’d like to show you the Vault,” Castiel said with conviction.

“Really?” Dean remembered what he said about why he became an archivist in the first place. “Are you sure? I mean, do you want to return to work after …”

Castiel understood where the conversation was going and stopped Dean before he could go any further, “I’m sure. I had a lot of time to think and process my mother’s death this week, so I think I’m fine. And again, the only full time archivist is currently sitting here salivating over your food. They kind of need me.”

“Alright, yeah! That sounds cool!” Dean smiled broadly. “When do we leave?”

“How ‘bout after breakfast?” Castiel proposed.

 “Works for me.”

Between the stack of pancakes, bacon, and sausage, they mainly ate in silence while Castiel read the newspaper. Somewhere along, Dean had stolen the sports section and they were both eating and reading in silence. Out of nowhere, Dean was hit with immense feelings of domesticity and the words “boyfriend” and “relationship” were floating around in his head. Is this what he and Castiel looked like to Gabriel? Surely he didn’t actually send heart eyes to the man he was sitting beside. He’d only known Castiel for … 5 days!

“Wow,” Dean accidentally said out loud.

“What?” Castiel lowered the right side of his newspaper. “Something happen in the world of sports?”

“No,” Dean placed his newspaper down. “We’ve only known each other for five days. Did you know that?”

“Well, I wasn’t keeping track,” Castiel shrugged. “Why?”

 _“Oh, it’s just that in five days I’ve managed to develop this giant crush on you that I don’t want to admit out loud. You’re just incredibly interesting and attractive, and I like you way more than I should,”_ but of course, Dean didn’t say any of this, instead, “Nah, no reason.”

“Okay, I’m going to change and get ready for work. Do you need any help with the dishes?”

“No, totally fine,” Dean waved him off, but the words “this is so domestic” just kept ringing in his head.

Dean kept his eyes front as he listened to Castiel walk from the kitchen to his suite downstairs. After spending 5 minutes with the dishwasher, Dean changed and waited for Castiel in the foyer.

“Ready to go?” Dean asked.

“Oh good, I forgot to mention not to wear anything that might get caught, but you look … fine,” Castiel tried to find the right word at the end, making Dean embarrassingly blush.

The drive was mainly silent, and the only comment from Castiel was that he Dean could park in the staff parking lot and he wouldn’t be towed or anything. Following Castiel into the building was not a new experience, but the hallways seemed less clinical with Castiel’s presence. In the room where Dean first saw Castiel’s workspace he saw a new face.

“Hello, Becky,” Castiel greeted her a little too gruffly.

“Hi, Castiel!” Becky replied a little too over enthusiastically.

“What are you doing here on a Sunday?” Castiel asked, legitimately confused.

“I thought I might have left my USB key with my … paper on it in here, but I guess not. Then I remembered I had a few things I needed to catch up on anyways, so here I am!” Becky shrugged. “What are you doing here?”

“Just giving a tour of the place to my friend,” Castiel looked at Dean and Dean waved at Becky.

“Cool! Are you gonna show him the Vault?! It’s so amazing! And so … romantic.” Becky’s eyes grew wide when she realized what she said. “Anyways! I’ll be around if you need me!”

After Becky left, Dean had to turn to Castiel with his brow raised, “she’s … chipper.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Castiel half groaned, half laughed.

Castiel walked to the steel door that Dean hadn’t noticed before and realized that it was literally something he’d find in a bank, though more high-tech. Castiel entered in a code and scanned his ID before it opened, revealing complete darkness.

“Romantic, huh?” Dean had to tease, and he could see Castiel smirk in his peripheral. “Hard to see anything.”

Castiel turned on a few lights and led Dean in, “we keep it dark to make sure the artifacts aren’t damaged by the light. You’ll probably also notice it’s just a few degrees chillier than the other room all for the purpose of conservation.”

Castiel closed the vault door behind Dean, to which Dean had to make a smart-ass comment, “now they definitely won’t know what we’re doing behind closed doors.”

Castiel threw a pair of clean, white, cotton gloves at his face, “yes, like me harassing you with archival gloves.”

Dean smiled, and realized that Castiel was going back to his usual, weird self. Dean looked around for the first time and saw the rows of giant white shelves smushed together, leaving no room to access anything. Castiel walked up to one and pressed a button and the shelves began to move. Castiel motioned for Dean to wait as he brought over a cart with what looked like a blanket and tissue paper. From where Dean was standing, Castiel carefully manoeuvred a case onto the cart and then wheeled it over past Dean and towards a few tables. Placing the case on the table, Castiel opened the glass case and allowed for Dean to look at it.

“So this is it. The angel tablet as I call it. If you’d like, you can touch it, just be very careful,” Castiel spoke with pride. “No one on Earth can translate it … yet. I’ve been working on it with a couple of researchers and one particular genius college student. We think it has to do with demons.”

“Demons?” Dean asked, resisting the temptation to hold it, instead tracing his cotton covered fingers on the markings.

“Yes. So I think that if there’s an angel tablet right here, that somewhere out there in the world, there might be a demon tablet. 

“That’s amazing,” Dean looked at Castiel. “Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“How … how are you feeling about your mom, right now?” Dean broached the subject.

Castiel looked away for a moment, contemplating his next words, “this might sound absolutely terrible, but you managed to say what I needed to hear in three words.”

Dean remained silent, yet confused.

“So it goes,” Castiel sighed. “You are right – everything and everyone has its time, and it’s up to me to remember her through my memories of her, not to shy away from them or to be afraid that I’ll forget her. I don’t know why it took me ten years of constant emotional upheaval to realize this, and yet one evening with you helped me see past it all.”

Dean asked, “Can you tell me that story about the angels? The one your mom told you?”

Castiel looked down for a moment, and Dean thought that he definitely said the wrong thing, but Castiel began telling the story, “There was an angel who saved a righteous man from hell. When my mom told it, I used to picture myself as this angel. With this righteous man, he learned about humanity – the good and the bad. When it came time to choose, this angel sided with humanity not because God ordered him, but because he found free will. The angel struggled to understand humanity at first, and the Righteous Man struggled to deal with his inner demons after 40 years in hell. But they still fought side by side as they thwarted multiple foes, and they even stopped an apocalypse, all because they believed in each other and helped each other, and so they fell in love.”

Dean wasn’t sure what prompted him, but he took a step forward and his lips met Castiel’s. Maybe Becky was right after all – perhaps the Vault was romantic – but then the logical gear in Dean’s mind turned and he immediately realized what he was doing and stopped, taking a step back with wide, guilty eyes plastered on his face.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean began to apologize.

There was a slight upturn on the corner of Castiel’s lip, “I’m not.”

And then everything sort of stopped in Dean’s mind, and he had to rewind those two words. Luckily, Castiel took the reigns and stepped into Dean’s personal space to kiss him back. Dean made a little surprised noise, but sunk into Castiel’s kiss as he deepened it. Dean opened his mouth just a little to allow Castiel’s tongue in, and it soon became apparent that Castiel had wanted this just as much as Dean.

The sound of the vault’s code being punched in and an ID card scanning immediately put an abrupt stop before things could get too hot and heavy.

“Ah, Castiel, perfect,” a British man spoke.

“Balthazar,” Castiel cleared his throat before greeting him. “How can I help you?”

The man, Balthazar, looked at Dean and then Castiel, making his own conclusions and smiling cheekily, “it seems as if I have interrupted something. Nevertheless, I need artifact 1992.49.20, the hanging tapestry, for my class. Would you be able to get it to me by today? I need to have it set up for tomorrow’s lecture.”

“Of course,” Castiel coolly responded. 

Balthazar handed Castiel the correct paperwork as Dean cleared his throat.

“Cute,” Balthazar looked at Dean. “Anyways, Castiel, when you’re done, take the tapestry to the Humanities building, 3-285.”

“Will do,” Castiel nodded, looking over the papers.

Balthazar nodded curtly and then left as quickly as he came. Dean leaned on the table and realized they were both still wearing those dumb cotton archival gloves. He laughed and took them off, throwing them in Castiel’s face.

“That was close,” Dean smiled. “What if we were caught in a compromising position by him?”

“I think I would have made sure that that wouldn’t have happened. We can’t be rolling all over the artifacts, now could we?” Castiel placed the papers down, smirking. “But I have a feeling that my boss wouldn’t have minded.”

Dean’s eyes widened, “that was your boss?”

“Yes,” Castiel nodded. “He’s the head curator of the entire collection. I’m the one that technically manages it while he teaches courses on curatorship and archiving.”

“So guess that means I have to leave you to your work, huh?” Dean asked.

“Unfortunately,” Castiel sat down on the tall swivel chair, rolling a pencil in between his fingers.

“ _FUCK IT, LET’S DO THIS WINCHESTER,”_ Dean thought to himself. 

“How ‘bout this,” Dean quickly thought on his feet. “You go do your stuff, and you come back to Charlie’s and we’ll have food together.”

“Like a date?” Castiel tempted to ask, looking right at Dean.

“Like a date,” Dean confirmed, pressing his lips to Castiel’s.

Dean left the building with a spring in his step and a fantastic idea for what to make. The rest of the afternoon went well, with grocery shopping here and there, a little tidying up the house, and then the beginnings of burger making towards dinnertime. Dean didn’t even realize he was whistling a tune until Clarice came in and stared at Dean, making the room quiet.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Meow?” Dean swore he heard a questioning tone from her. “Meow.”

“I’m making burgers for me and Cas,” Dean proudly stated. “And you can’t have any.”

“Meow,” Clarice scampered away at that and Dean drove away the thought that he might have had a few legitimate conversations with a cat over the last couple of days.

It was close to six that Dean heard the front door open.

“Dean?” Castiel spoke from the foyer.

“In the kitchen!” Dean shouted back. 

“I’ll be downstairs, need to change!” Castiel responded.

“Food’ll be ready when you’re ready!”

In the middle of placing the patty on the bun, Dean realized how much he’d gotten use to the domesticity of it all and that kind of freaked him out – his live fast, travel hard motto was slowly fading away. He stared blankly at a wall for a good five minutes before he heard Castiel’s footsteps, startling him back to reality.

“No, you didn’t,” Castiel actually marvelled at Dean’s creation. “You made burgers?”

“Yeah! I remembered you said that they were a favourite. I also made some pecan pie for dessert,” Dean shyly added.

“I love pie.”

Dean may or may not have swooned at that statement.

They sat down at the table and Dean watched as Castiel took a bite, moaning as he clearly savoured the taste. Dean wondered what else he could do to get Castiel to make that noise again.

“This makes me very happy,” Castiel chewed.

Castiel and Dean talked about the rest of Castiel's day and the transportation of the apparently huge tapestry. Unfortunately for Cas, Balthazar needed two more smaller tapestries to showcase, but one of them had the wrong accession number which led to a goose chase of finding the right artifact and replacing the fabergé egg that Castiel accidentally pulled out of the archives. 

"One day, if I have nothing to do," Castiel began, finishing off his burger, "I'm going to go through every artifact and make sure they have the right number."

"That would take you years."

"Probably, but then I'd avoid the debacle I had at work."

"Very true," Dean conceded. "Should we move to the couch and I'll get the pie?"

Giving Castiel the slice of pie, Dean went and chose a movie to watch.

"Damn it," Castiel muttered to himself.

"What?" Dean turned around.

"This is so good. I thought you said you didn't bake," Castiel took another bite. 

"I don't. I only really perfected pie," Dean shrugged, putting a DVD in the player and settling close beside Castiel.

"Well I'd suggest not giving Gabriel any of this. He'd never let you go without a recipe," Castiel pointed to the pie with his fork. “He would literally tie you to a chair and torture you for a recipe.”

About half way through the movie, Dean pulled the classic arm around shoulder move, to which Cas happily sunk into. When the movie ended, Castiel returned to a sitting position and looked at Dean.

"Well I'm kinda surprised with how much I enjoyed that,” Castiel mentioned. “I don’t typically like movies by … what is it?”

Dean noticed a smudge of pie on the corner of his lips and must have been awkwardly staring long enough for Castiel to notice and comment. 

"You have a little something here," Dean lifted his hand to Castiel's mouth, reminiscent to when he first brushed the speck of flour off his cheek, but instead, Dean leaned in, kissing Castiel.

Castiel responded in kind, letting Dean explore his mouth with his tongue, but Dean needed just a bit more friction. As if Castiel was able to read Dean’s mind, he got on top of Dean, straddling him without breaking any contact.

“Bed?” Dean asked when Castiel moved from Dean’s lips to his neck.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Castiel gave him a mischievous look.

Castiel got off of Dean and pulled him up, locking lips again as they made their way to the bedroom. Castiel pulled at the hem of Dean’s t-shirt, and Dean took the hint, allowing him to take the shirt off. Castiel began pressing kisses to Dean’s chest, slowly working his way down to his navel. Castiel unbuttoned Dean’s jeans, teasing him by ever so slowly working the zipper down.

“You’re killing me here, Cas,” Dean groaned, finally swiping his fingers through Castiel’s raven hair.

“Patience, Dean,” Castiel was deliberately slow in pulling Dean’s jeans down, kissing ever piece of bare skin as he did so. “I could spend all day just kissing every inch of you.”

When Castiel finally got Dean’s cock out of his underwear, handling it with his gentle hands, Dean moaned at the touch. When Castiel wrapped his beautiful lips around the head, Dean nearly collapsed onto the bed. Dean didn’t know who Castiel’s previous boyfriend was, but whoever he was, Dean thanked every deity he could think of that this former boyfriend wasn’t in the picture anymore.

“Jesus fuck, Cas,” Dean groaned. “Just like that.”

“You like that?” Castiel pulled off. “Lay down.”

Dean didn’t even need to protest, laying flat on the bedspread. As if it couldn’t get any sexier, Castiel began taking off his clothes, revealing a toned, tan body that Dean didn’t expect from an archivist.

“Shit,” Dean licked his lips. “You’re so hot.”

The corner of Castiel’s lip turned upwards, “tell me what you want, Dean.”

“Kiss me, blow me, I don’t care,” Dean nearly begged. “I just want you.”

“As you wish,” Castiel got up to Dean’s face and began kissing him using his other hand to pump on Dean’s cock 

“You don’t know,” Dean said in between kisses. “How much I’ve wanted this since I first saw you.”

“I could say the same,” Castiel swiped his thumb over the head of Dean’s cock, teasing him.

Dean gasped in Castiel’s mouth as Castiel began using his soft hands to play with Dean, and then he began pumping faster and faster.  Wanting Castiel to feel the almost overwhelming sensations he was experiencing, Dean lifted himself up so that Castiel was essentially straddling Dean, but Dean used his free hand to jerk off Castiel. It wasn’t long until they both came in long squirts. 

“Fuck … me,” Dean laboriously breathed.

Castiel laughed as he collapsed onto the bed and off of Dean, also heavily breathing, “next time.”

“Oh, you think you’re funny,” Dean laughed, kissing the side of Castiel’s head.

“I think I’m hilarious,” Castiel looked up at Dean with a pleased look.

When their breaths began to slow, Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel’s shoulders, letting the sound of silence lull them to sleep with blissful expressions on their face.

 

 

           

For once, Dean wasn't woken by Clarice's meowing. Instead, he was woken by the sound of low snoring from the man pressed against him. Clarice, though, woke up when Dean did, elected to walk over his face, and jumped to the floor. She looked back at Dean when she realized that he wasn't following her, meowing once, and Dean put his head back on the pillow in order to tell Clarice his intentions that morning. Castiel turned over then, and Dean's heart began to flutter at the sight in front of him. Between all of Dean's romantic partners, never had he ever met someone like Castiel. Never had he ever met someone so beautiful and unique.

Dean was happy, God help him, and that made him smile. Then Dean really looked at Castiel and his smile dropped. He hated to admit it, but he missed having someone to hold and kiss and take care of. For the first time, he realized he wanted to stay.

Castiel began shifting in Dean's arms, "mm, good morning, Dean"

"Mornin' Cas," Dean yawned, having the terrible desire to want to fall back asleep and not wake up.

"What time is it?" Castiel asked tiredly, but snuggled close into Dean's chest. 

"Uh," Dean looked at the clock on the nightstand. "Almost 8."

Castiel groaned loudly. 

"I know, me too."

Dean waited for the inevitable awkwardness of the morning after, but it never came.

Castiel mumbled into Dean's chest, "I have to go to work this morning."

"Take the day off," Dean kissed the top of Castiel's head.

"Can't. Balthazar's lecture is today. He's going to need the tapestries removed at the end of his class," Castiel's was speaking softly, his eyes closed.

"I can't even entice you with this?" Castiel looked up at Dean to see what he meant, but Dean just leaned in, closing the distance between their lips with a deep and passionate kiss.

Castiel pulled back, and reluctantly spoke, "you have no idea how much I'd love to spend the day in bed with you. Can we save it for tonight?"

"I'll be here waiting."

Castiel slowly got out of bed and managed to leave the house within half an hour of getting ready and having breakfast - Dean even made Castiel lunch. God, Dean was stupidly happy.

"Meow" Clarice meowed from Charlie's room.

“What are you doing in here?” Dean said as he walked into the room, spotting Clarice paw at Dean’s cell phone. “Oh.”

Dean picked up his phone and noticed a few new messages.

_Charlie (7:10 am): Hey, sorry for the last minute notice, but turns out we’re cutting our vacation a little short. So we’ll be back today by … 3 at the latest._

_Charlie (8:23 am): Hah, just kidding. We’ll be there by 2. Gilda forgot that the speedometer is in miles per hour and Canadian traffic laws go by kilometers per hour. We might have been speeding a little too fast._

_Charlie (8:26 am): okay, a lot._

“Shit,” Dean rubbed his head just as a new text message came in.

_Charlie (8:47 am): We’ll be there by 1. I should have drove. I think we may crash. Tell my cat I love her._

“Shit, shit, shit,” Dean plopped his phone down, looking around Charlie’s room and the spot where he and Castiel spent the night together.

Dean didn’t know how he managed to delude himself for so long, but now this fantasy of being domestic and having some sort of relationship with Castiel shattered into a million pieces, with reality replacing the situation at hand. He was not in his own bed or in his own house. Charlie was coming home and that was it. There was no “staying here.”

Dean sat down on the bed, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. 

“How could I have let myself get this far?” Dean asked himself.

 _“I should have resisted better. How could I be so selfish? I shouldn’t have fallen in love with Castiel,”_ Dean thought. 

“Holy shit,” Dean’s eyes snapped open, surprised at what he just thought. “Fuck.”

Castiel, with those endless blue eyes, and the smile that makes Dean’s heart beat so hard, was completely irresistible to Dean, and Dean should have known better. In all honesty, he thought that Castiel would have had a stronger attraction to Dean rather than the other way around. He knew he should have known not to fall in love with a man in such a short span of time, knowing full well that he was leaving. That was always Dean’s problem – getting too close to someone and having that relationship blow up in his face.  

Dean looked at his phone again, rereading some of Charlie’s texts. Maybe those texts were a sign giving him an easy messy-free way out. Maybe this was a way for Dean to cut ties without having to face Castiel later that evening to tell him he was leaving. It was such a dick move, but Dean rationalized it was one that would be less painful for the both of them. Right?

Dean took a deep breath and solidified his decision. In less than 5 hours, he would be out of Seattle without even a goodbye to Castiel. He knew it was wrong just to leave, but he couldn’t face those sad blue eyes. Cataloguing what he needed to pack, Dean pulled out his duffle bag and began to stuff his clothes in it.

Packing left Dean with a lot of time to think, and thinking of it all and how good it was made Dean want to stay, but he knew in his heart that he couldn’t. Dean told himself that Castiel deserved better than him – someone normal and stable, and especially someone who didn’t have such a messed up childhood.

Dean didn’t bring many belongings with him, though he never really owned many things either, a result from moving so many times in his childhood, so it didn’t take him long to pack and place it in his Impala. He decided to make food one last time that didn’t require much reheating while on the road, seeing as he didn’t know when the next time he’d eat a home cooked meal would be. He decided against leaving any extra leftovers that Castiel would inevitably eat – with what Dean was about to do, leaving any trace of himself would be cruel.

It didn’t take long for Charlie and Gilda to arrive, their lively voices filling the entranceway.

“Dean!” Charlie hugged him after putting down her luggage.

“Welcome home!” Dean faked his enthusiasm, turning to both of them. “How was the trip?”

“It was fine. I missed big city life, though,” Charlie shrugged.

“You should have heard her complaining – she wanted to go to Calgary or Edmonton,” Gilda rolled her eyes playfully at Charlie.

“Edmonton has the original Bioware, okay?” Charlie looked between Dean and Gilda. “They created Dragon Age and Mass Effect and …”

“And we would have never left,” Gilda stopped her. “You would have probably tried to apply to work there.”

“Touché,” Charlie crossed her arms.

Dean watched this nerdy exchange, “well, everything in your house is in order. I watered your plants like you told me and took care of Clarice.”

“Thank you for doing that, Dean,” Gilda spoke up. “It really was much appreciated.”

“Yeah, it was fun. And that stupid cat kinda grew on me,” Dean shrugged.

Gilda told Charlie that she was going to get the rest of the baggage from their vehicle, and Charlie led Dean outside to the patio, bringing two beers with her.

“Cheers to a job well done,” Charlie clinked her beer bottle with Dean’s. “So tell me. Did you do it?”

“Do what?” Dean wondered what she was talking about.

“Seduce Castiel?” Charlie waggled her eyebrows.

Dean’s expression immediately fell, and Charlie noticed the change in tone, “what happened?”

“I kissed him, he kissed back, we had a date, and then we had sex,” Dean plainly stated. “And now, I’m leaving.”

Dean could see Charlie working some possible solutions in her brain.

“Stay with us a little longer!” Charlie offered as her first suggestion.

“I’m not going to mooch off of you, Charles,” Dean shut her down quickly. “I don’t have a job, and I don’t have a home, so I couldn’t just depend on you.”

“But I won’t mind it! Neither would Gilda,” Dean shook his head at Charlie’s rebuttal.

“I would mind,” Dean looked her directly in the eyes and then stood up. “It’s time for me to go. There’s … nothing left for me here.”

“You can’t mean that. What about Castiel?” Charlie quietly asked.

“What about him?” Dean wasn’t sure he even wanted to talk about it.

“Well clearly, if you managed to get into his pants within the week, it means there’s mutual attraction going on, which means he likes you as much as you like him,” Charlie spoke up. “Stay and have a relationship. Date him and be his boyfriend.”

Dean shook his head once more, “he deserves better than me. He deserves better than the loser that I am.”

The expression that Charlie made seemed as if Dean was calling her the loser, and the insulted emotion perplexed Dean, and she countered, “you’re not a loser Dean. I can’t believe you think that about yourself.”

“It’s true. I don’t have a job, I have $440 in my bank account, and most of it is from you, and I have no home. Now I have to be on the road before the sun sets, are you gonna say goodbye or not?” Dean headed towards the door to the patio.

“Fine,” Charlie grumbled, realizing she wouldn’t be able to change Dean’s mind. “I will, but I won’t like it.”

Clarice also darted back inside from out of nowhere. As if she knew what was happening, she began to meow loudly, nudging Dean with her head. In the beginning, Dean was adamant he wasn’t a cat person, but his particular cat had won him over. Dean kneeled down and began to pet her.

“Okay Claire-bear, don’t you go gettin’ into trouble while I’m away. No climbing trees. You hear?” Dean looked at her.

“Meow,” Clarice put on paw on Dean’s knee.

Dean stood up and hugged Charlie, “I guess I’ll see you.”

About halfway out the door, Charlie called back for him, “did you say goodbye to Castiel?”

Dean didn’t answer her, instead, telling her, “tell Cas … tell him that he’ll find his Righteous Man one day. It just wasn’t me.”

 

 

Jobless. Homeless. Single. Poor.

Dean was back to where he started, except this time he could add heartbroken to that list. He drove on and off since leaving Charlie’s house, deliberately avoiding the university area. The one motel Dean stayed at he had a poor time sleeping, and he failed at pushing away the memories of falling asleep and waking up next to Cas. There was a part of Dean that couldn’t understand how he was able to fall in love with a man so quickly, but in his heart, he knew that with someone like Castiel, it was unavoidable.

Because of his poor sleep, Dean would lose his concentration on the road, and at some points he wouldn’t be able to remember the last few seconds of travel. He actively avoided thinking of Castiel, electing to blast rock and roll for the entirety of the drive in order to drown out his thoughts. Somehow, Dean didn’t seem to realize that he wasn’t actually driving aimlessly south, but rather, towards a very familiar place.

It almost seemed like a default destination when Dean arrived, but somewhere in his mind, he knew that was time to say “I’m sorry.” He let the engine run a bit in the night, deciding whether or not it was even a good time to knock on their door – it was nearly midnight after all, surely his brother and his fiancée were asleep. With Dean thinking so many thoughts, he didn’t even see Sam walk up the passenger side door and knock on the glass.

“Uh, Dean?” Sam asked. “Did you want to come inside instead of sitting out here like a creep?”

Dean just turned off his engine and followed his younger brother into the condo.

“How’d you know I was outside?” Dean asked when they were inside.

“I can hear the Impala from a mile away, of course you were outside,” Sam scoffed, standing on the other side of the kitchen island. “Okay, so what’s wrong?”

“Why do you think something’s wrong?” Dean asked, sitting down on the bar stool amidst the darkened house – the only lights that were on were the ones in the kitchen.

“There’s no other reason for you to be here close to midnight,” Sam spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Dean sighed, “Sammy, I just … you know I didn’t mean what I said, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam responded seriously. “You were mad, and it didn’t help that I was mad and we were both having terrible days.”

“But it’s still inexcusable. I was so fucking stupid and I should have never said and I don’t think you know how much I hate myself for saying that,” Dean spoke from the heart, even though he wanted to avoid this chick-flick moment. “I’m sorry."

“Dean, I forgive you,” Sam patted his big brother’s shoulder. “Now tell me why you’re really here.”

“How do you know I’m not only here to apologize to you?” Dean wondered.

“Because the moment you said that you wish I wasn’t born and that we weren’t brothers,” Dean visibly winced when Sam said it out loud. “You had this expression … all the anger faded and it looked like saying it just killed you inside, and then I knew you didn’t mean it, and then you ran. What made you come back?”

“I just … I couldn’t face going to mom’s grave knowing that I had said that to you. If she were alive …”

“She would slap you upside the head.”

Dean nodded.

“Well, I forgive you,” Sam said sincerely. “Are we good?”

Dean nodded again.

“So I know that you’ve probably met your chick-flick situation quota for the year,” Sam began. “But did you want to talk about why you’re here?”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam replied automatically. “Now spill.”

“Wow, is that a lawyer term?” Dean tried to be cheeky to avoid the inevitable conversation.

Sam just responded with a bitch face.

“Fucking fine,” Dean took in a deep breath. “So you know how I was house sitting for Charlie? Well, she has this roommate, Castiel. He’s cute and smart and funny and we hooked up. God, I never should have done it.”

“Well, you’re done house sitting right? So what’s the problem?” Sam asked.

“I fell in love with him.”

“Oh, Dean,” Sam sighed as he spoke with a pitying tone in his voice.

“Don’t you ‘oh, Dean’ me,” Dean snapped. “I know I shouldn’t have gotten involved and I’m beating myself up over it.”

“But it’s what you would have totally done, don’t you see?” Sam asked. “You were with Lisa for, what, a year, and you still wanted to try and make it work even after she ended it? You crave long-term relationships even though _you_ never think it would work.”

“Yeah, and that’s thanks to dad,” Dean muttered.

“Right, it probably didn’t help that we didn’t stay in a place long enough for you to really date for a long time,” Sam continued with that thought.

“So what you are saying is that because of Lisa, I’m doomed from ever having long term relationships? You’re saying that if I stayed with Castiel, I would have inevitably fucked it up.”

“That’s the complete opposite of what I’m saying, Dean,” Sam whacked him on the arm. “I’m saying that you should have stayed and pursued whatever you had with this guy. Clearly, after Lisa, you wanted something more. You stuck it out with Lisa for a year, and the only reason you broke up is because she thought the relationship was going too fast. She didn’t want something long term – you did.”

Sam was right about that, but thinking about Castiel and how they spent their time together, it almost seemed as if they were an old married couple. Dean smiled at the memory of them eating and reading the newspaper together.

“Christ, I fucked up,” Dean put his head into his hands. “I fucked it up before I could even get anything started. Oh, God, he’s going to hate me.”

“Okay,” Sam placed his hand on Dean’s back. “Calm down. At least you ended on good terms, right?”

Dean’s eyes widened when he realized the last thing he said to Castiel was that he’d happily wait for him to come home. It didn’t help that he also imagined Castiel’s devastated face when Cas realizes Dean had left and was seemingly never coming back, “shit. Motherfuck.”

 “So that’s a no?” Sam asked.

“I need a drink,” Dean grumbled. “Get me a drink. Stat.”

Sam immediately poured one and Dean downed it in one go, surprising Sam.

“That’s a definite no,” Sam sighed. “Let’s get you to bed, okay? We can talk more in the morning.”

Dean let himself be dragged to the guest bedroom by Sam. It was mainly exhaustion that managed to overtake Dean, but he dreamt of nothing but sad blue eyes.

 

Dean startled himself awake the next morning, confused at his surroundings. It took him a few moments to realize he was not at Charlie’s, but at Sam’s. He stared at the ceiling for a little, listening to the sound of the storm outside, and hating how cold the bed felt. Eventually, Dean wandered into the kitchen to the sound of chatter.

“Morning, Dean,” Jessica spoke. “Coffee?”

“Lots, please,” Dean sluggishly sat down. “And maybe a shot of something alcoholic.”

“So Sam told me the gist of what happened,” Jessica started and Dean rolled eyes at Sam. “And I think I can help you with your problem.”

“What, you can fix my homeless, jobless, and moneyless problem?” Dean sarcastically asked.

“Hey! No sassing off my fiancée,” Sam pointed the spatula at Dean.

“Actually, I can,” Jessica said.

Sam and Dean both looked at her with wide eyes, “how?”

“You see being homeless, jobless, and broke as issues. I see them as you not being tied to a place and you being able to find something that you love to do and not having to deal with stupid people. There’s also this,” Jessica stood up, walking to one of the kitchen drawers and pulling out a small piece of folded paper.

“What’s that?” Dean opened up the piece of paper, apparently a check with quite a few zeroes written in. “What the hell, Sam? This is a lot of fucking money.”

Sam turned around from the stove, “what? Oh. That.”

Dean mocked his voice, “’Oh. That.’”

“Dean, you helped me get my start into college. I never should have let you, and you should have used that money for yourself to go to school,” Sam explained. “I’ve been saving up ever since I got my degree, so now I’m paying you back. My firm was also very generous with my bonus this year, and Jess chipped in since you were kind of the overarching reason with how we met.”

“No,” Dean adamantly refused. “I can’t take this.”

“Yes,” Sam glared at his brother. “If you don’t take it, we’ll just send it to Charlie, who will just hack your bank account and send the funds there.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that, as that was a very plausible situation, and so he reluctantly accepted the check, “fine. But you guys suck.”

“So anyways, now that you have some money,” Jessica continued. “You can scratch off one of your problems. What’s keeping you from not going back and apologizing?”

“You told her everything, didn’t you?” Dean asked Sam, who shrugged. “I don’t know … nothing, I guess?”

Dean realized for the first time that his lack of attachment – to a job, to a home – wasn’t actually a bad thing. It gave him the freedom to start afresh, and not many people were given that opportunity.

“But he’s not going to forgive me,” Dean shook his head. “Who get’s up and leaves without saying goodbye? Assholes.”

“And you know what assholes don’t feel? Regret and guilt. Let him decide if he’s going to forgive you. You should still apologize and right that wrong,” Sam added his input, and Dean nodded, seeing that his brother was right. “Just, maybe not today.”

“What?” Dean looked up from his coffee cup. “Why not today?”

“Have you looked outside?” Sam asked. “The storm’s so bad no one is daring to go out. Driving on the highway is a recipe for disaster.”

“I’ll drive slow,” Dean shrugged. “I’ve driven in worse.”

“You really want to see him again, don’t you?” Jessica leaned in.

Dean nodded, smiling.

“Then go,” Jessica smiled. “But drive way under the speed limit.”

“Okay,” Dean stood up, the decision setting in. “I’m going. It’s as easy as that.”

“It’s as easy as that,” Jessica smiled softly.

* * *

 

“Shit,” Dean looked at the time on his clock, and realized that continuing to drive through the night was a terrible idea.

Taking a detour in Portland to find a nice motel, he needed to stop to ask for directions to the nearest one. It was pouring rain in the city, and while Dean was trying to cover his head from being soaked by the rain, he didn’t notice the particular bakery he just inadvertently stepped into. The bell above the door chimed when Dean stepped in and the immediate aroma of baked goods hit Dean in the noggin’.

“Sorry, we’re about to …,” a familiar voice halted both of the occupants in the small bakery.

Dean stood there with a deer in the headlights look, wondering how coincidental it was that he managed to step into the one place where he would find Gabriel.

Gabriel, a little shell shocked, slowly walked up to Dean, and then smacked him with his rag, “what the hell is your problem?”

“Ow! Okay, I know,” Dean tried to grab the rag from Gabriel.

“Oh, really? So you know how Castiel has been torn up about you. How he thought you’d be home when really you’d disappear without any goodbye?” Gabriel kept whacking him, the obvious irritation in his voice.

“He was torn up?” Dean managed to ask amongst the whacks.

“Of course he was!” Gabriel was yelling as the hits got louder. “You took him, this wounded, fledgling bird, and basically told him that you would care for him, and then you crushed him! You took advantage of him!”

“I didn’t!” Dean adamantly protested that last part.

“Then why’d you leave? Huh?” Gabriel whacked him one last time. “HUH?!”

“Charlie and Gilda were back, what was I supposed to do?” Dean finally caught the rag and placed it behind him on the table.

“Not leave!” Gabriel yelled. 

“Well I’m going back,” Dean tried to placate him with that response.

“Wait, what?” Gabriel went up to Dean and placed a finger over Dean’s lips. “Hold on a minute. You’re doing what now?”

“I’m going back,” Dean simply said. “I thought about why I left, realized how stupid it was, and now I’m going back to apologize.”       

“Like hell you are. You, sir, are one flip-flopping mother-effer,” Gabriel turned around, walking back behind the counter, muttering to himself, “I can’t believe I even stuck my neck out for you.”

“What do you mean you stuck your neck out for me?” Dean asked.

Gabriel sighed, “you said you were in between jobs. Well, guess who found you a job?”

“What?”

“Well, I didn’t really find it, per se, but let’s just say that this guy that I know fired his last sous chef and complained to me about Seattle not having any cooking talent,” Gabriel began. “I mentioned your name and he told me to send your details. When I tried calling yesterday, Charlie said you left, and now you’re apparently going back. See? You are a flip-flopping mother-effer.”

“You found me a job?” Dean was still dumbfounded by the gesture.

“Yes, I found you a job, keep up already,” Gabriel scoffed. “I thought, ‘hey, why not find this man a job so he can stay in Seattle and maybe date my lonely ass of a brother? They have this weird chemistry, eye-sex thing going on, it would totally work’. Clearly, I didn’t factor in that you were going to abandon ship when things got too serious.”

“That wasn’t the reason,” Dean wondered if that was true on his part, but he continued on. “Gabriel. I’m going back and apologizing and whether or not he accepts it, or even if he doesn’t even want to see me again, I’m planning on staying in Seattle.”

Gabriel sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead, “He’ll forgive you. I know he will. He’s goddamn smitten and I don’t know why. You’ve only known each other for so long. Here.”

Gabriel rummaged through a few papers he had behind the counter, “this is the job. Let me know if you can stand Crowley and his orders – not many people have – but I feel like you could.”

Dean looked at the print outs that Gabriel had and scanned them. Apparently, this Crowley owned a slew of successful restaurants.

“He doesn’t care about accreditation. He cares about cooking well,” Gabriel sighed. “Call him up. Schedule a trial run and tell him I sent you.”

“Thank you, Gabriel,” Dean earnestly said.

“Look, where are you staying tonight?” Gabriel asked, rubbing his hand over his face, seemingly finished with the entire conversation.

“Uh, I was going to look for a motel or something?” Dean scratched his back. “That’s kinda why I came in for the first place. Didn’t exactly know it was gonna be you who I’d be talking to.”

“Nope, you’re staying with me, come on,” Gabriel winked and led Dean to a back room and up the stairs. “The benefit of owning this bakery is that my home is right upstairs. Cuts transportation costs to a minimum which means sleeping in is totally a thing.”

Through one door, up a flight of stairs, and then through another, they both entered Gabriel’s apartment. Dean was surprised by the size of it – it was spacious, and not cluttered whatsoever, but he was not so surprised to see curious baking experiments in his kitchen.

“Make yourself comfortable, Dean-o, and get some rest. Tomorrow, you’ll be seeing Castiel.”

 

The next morning, Dean woke up to the smell of baked goods wafting in from the bakery below. It made his stomach rumble so embarrassingly loud that he was glad that Gabriel wasn’t in the apartment. Not sure whether or not he should just get off the couch and just _go_ , Dean brewed himself a cup of coffee before he noticed a small post-it attached to the cabinet door.

“At work, come find me before you leave. Gabe,” Dean read aloud.

Making his way down to the bakery, Gabriel fulfilled his promise he made long ago, giving Dean one of each baked good in his bakery with the promise that Dean would try his best to make Castiel happy and another slap upside his head for causing this mess. With a bakery full of waiting customers, there wasn’t much time for small talk – but it didn’t matter anyways as Dean just wanted to get on the road. With a car full of sweets and treats, Dean headed back north.

Dean would never admit it to anyone, but he was actually tired of all this driving just to see one man. It seemed every issue that he could have on the road happened – random accidents on the highway, nearly out of gas, and stormy weather.

When he did finally arrive to the picturesque house in Seattle, he wasn’t sure if he should knock on the door. It was nearly noon, and he was 99% certain that Castiel was at work, but he didn’t know about Gilda and Charlie. Tentatively knocking on the door, his shoulders sagged in relief when he heard the sound of footsteps. The door opened to reveal bright red hair.

“Dean?” Charlie looked more confused then shocked. “What are you doing here? Did you forget something?”

“Yeah, I did,” Dean immediately embraced Charlie in a choking hug.

“Kinda suffocating me!” Charlie struggled to say.

“Where’s Cas?” Dean asked absentmindedly as he walked inside.

Charlie gave him a look, stopping him in his tracks.

“What?”

“You are such a butthole,” Charlie said. “The biggest butthole ever to live.”

“I know,” Dean guilty dropped his head.

“I can’t believe you made me say that line to him. He came home wondering where you were, and I had to tell him,” Charlie whacked him on the arm.

“And I’ve come to apologize and make things right,” Dean tried to explain. “I realized that I want to stay here in Seattle. I’ve fallen in love with him, and I can’t explain that. I know he deserves better than me, but I’ll fight that part of me that thinks that if he’ll take me back.”

“After all that, you think he’s going to forgive you?” Charlie asked hesitantly. 

“Honestly, I have no idea, but it’s worth a shot,” Dean stopped and looked at her seriously. “You know when something feels so right you just have to go for it?”

“Well, young Padawan,” Charlie smiled with understanding. “We better get started.”

Dean and Charlie worked through a few ideas of the best way to lessen the shock that Dean was back in town and for him to sincerely apologize. They were both momentarily distracted when Clarice wandered back into the house and demanded that Dean pet her. Clarice meowed loudly any time Dean stopped, and truth be told, Dean did miss that dumb cat. About an hour later, a plan was set and nearly all the pastries Gabriel had given were eaten. Castiel would be home by six and Dean would make an apology dinner of sorts while Charlie and Gilda hit the town. It would be utterly romantic and Dean would pull out all the stops.

The only issue? It was 8pm and Castiel still hadn’t come home.

“Where is he?” Gilda asked, looking outside their front window.

“I thought you said he would be home by now?” Charlie neared Gilda, plopping her chin on Gilda’s shoulder.

“Maybe he was hit with another artifact requisition? He’ll come home though, right?” Gilda guessed, turning around to face Charlie.

Dean silently sat at the kitchen island, depressed as he watched the food get cold.

“We could phone him? Try and get him back here?” Gilda suggested.

“That would look too suspicious,” Charlie tapped her chin. “I guess, we wait? Dean?”

Dean grumbled quietly to himself as he deliberated his very limited choices. On the one hand, Castiel could easily be arriving any minute, so Dean needed to be prepared for that. On the other hand, Castiel could be working later into the night, and to be honest, Dean was already quite exhausted and mentally wouldn’t be able to say what he needed to say to Castiel.

“Dean?” Charlie repeated.

“Huh?” Charlie was closer than Dean remembered. “Oh, um, I don’t know.”

“What made you come back?” Charlie spoke, handing Dean a cup of hot chocolate that she suddenly had.

“What do you mean? You know why I came back,” Dean happily took the cup, taking a quick sip to test the temperature.

“Yeah, for Cas, and that’s romantic as shit, but what made you see that he was worth dropping everything and coming back?”

“It helped that everything dropped me,” Dean tried to add humour, but it didn’t work with Charlie’s glaring. “I was selfish. I am selfish.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I thought that leaving meant I wouldn’t need to have these feelings for Cas, and maybe running away from it would help make them disappear. It took three people to make me realize how dumb I was that I couldn’t see that the guy actually likes me too, that there was something mutual going on. Castiel has feelings for me, and just abandoning him was so selfish. I never thought he could like a guy like me.”

“But you had to know that?” Charlie shook her head, still a tad confused.

“I jump into relationships too fast. I fall hard and quick, even though I deny it, and it never ends well. I’m surprised the thing with Lisa lasted so long, considering we didn’t even want the same things in the end,” Dean shrugged. “I was scared that was going to happen again.”

There was a lull, and the only sound that could be heard was Clarice’s paws on the laminate flooring.

“Don’t you do it!” Charlie suddenly exclaimed, making Dean’s head turn quickly.

Gilda was on the phone trying to look as sneaky as possible, and Charlie literally chased after her, “HE’S GOING TO KNOW SOMETHING’S UP!”

“If you keep shouting that, yeah, he will!” Gilda laughed and scurried away. “Hush, love, it’s ringing. I cannot let Castiel just waste away at work after what Dean said.”

Charlie stopped and placed her hands on her hips, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. Dean watched this odd scene unfold, wondering when they de-aged from bill-paying adults to such weird love-struck, plan-hatching teenagers. Charlie tapped her foot as Gilda held the phone to her ear. Eventually, Gilda brought the phone to down, scrunching her face.

“Either he already left work, or he’s in the vault,” Gilda shrugged. “I’m thinking the first.”

“We need to get that boy a cell phone,” Charlie shook her head. “The anticipation is killing me.”

“Yeah, you can say that again,” Dean elected to stare out the window.

“So what do you want to do?” Charlie said, standing in front of him. “We need a Plan B.”

“There’s no Plan B,” Dean sighed. “Maybe this is the universe telling me that I was too late." 

“Do I need to smack you or something?” Charlie sighed. “The way I see it you have two options: one, you sit here and wait for him. Screw the dinner, just talk. Or two, you go out and look for him.”

Dean considered what she said. A memory crawled back into his mind, one in which he said he would wait for Castiel, with the promise of a kiss and embrace, “I’ll wait.”

“Suit yourself,” Charlie placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “What should we do?”

“It’s your house,” Dean rebutted. “Might as well eat the dinner before it gets cold.”

Glancing over at the kitchen, he knew that if he looked at the food any longer, he would be convinced that this was all for naught. He also wasn’t a wasteful person, and knowing that this was a good time to eat as any he let Gilda and Charlie get first bite before digging in himself. They all tried to focus the conversation away from Castiel, somehow even diverting the conversation to Dean’s future job and stay in Seattle. The topic of where Dean was staying that particular evening eventually nudged its way in, and though Dean refused staying at Charlie’s (“there’s no room!”), Charlie managed to wear him down (“it’s just a night! And it’s free! And Clarice misses you!”).

And that was how Dean found himself on Charlie’s couch with a blanket pulled up to his chin. Laying there in the dark, he felt around for his phone. When he touched the cool glass screen, illuminating the depressing reality that was 2:32 in the morning, he sighed. He couldn’t force himself to go to sleep, not with knowing that Castiel could literally enter the house at any moment.

“Where the hell are you?” Dean whispered to himself. 

A sad thought crawled into his mind, and he wondered if Castiel uttered that same question to himself the day that Dean left. 

“Shit,” Dean quickly got to action, realizing that just laying there was useless.

Pushing the blanket away and moving around Charlie’s house as quietly as possible, he straightened his shirt, combed his hair as well as he could, and grabbed his keys. There was really only one place Castiel could be, and if Dean was right, then this was it. No prep, no food, just an apology and a glimmer of hope that things would be all right between them.

Feeling antsy about seeing Castiel again, Dean had to work up some courage, even going so far as to preparing some words to say to him. The walk down that clinical hallway seemed longer now than it did before, but the door remained the same. Dean took in a deep breath and pushed through. Like the first time that Dean saw Castiel working, he was sitting in the corner of the dark room with just the one dim lamp illuminating his figure. Dean couldn’t help but smile.

“Dean?” Castiel looked up when he felt another presence in the room.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean walked slowly to him.

“W-What are you doing here?” Castiel asked. “I’m not dreaming, right?”

“You’re not dreaming,” Dean neared him.

Dean glanced over at what Castiel was working on. There were scans and pictures of the angel tablet, with scribbles all over with what the symbols meant. Dean averted his eyes, knowing that his brain would flub and talk about that, which wasn’t the purpose of him being there.

"How’d you get in here?” Castiel rubbed his eyes.

“I honestly don’t know,” Dean chuckled. “Guess the security guys didn’t lock the doors.”

Castiel stood up slowly and flattened his palms against his jeans, though that didn’t really help with the overall rumpled look he was sporting, “what are you doing here? Why are you in Seattle?”

“I’m here to apologize," Dean forced himself to look Castiel in the eyes.

“Why?” Castiel tilted his head slightly, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Because I left without saying goodbye, especially after everything."

“Dean, it’s okay,” Castiel looked at the ground. “You don’t need to apologize. I think we were both under some illusion that this was going to last. You clearly didn’t want to stay, and that’s fine, I mean, with everything that happened, no sane person would …”

“Castiel, stop,” Dean stepped into Castiel’s personal space and placed his hands on Cas’ arms. “I regret leaving without saying goodbye, but I feel even more guilty for letting you think that.”

Approaching Castiel was harder than Dean had anticipated. Dean’s breaths became shallower, and panic began to bubble up from underneath. He could sense that this would go in either direction: him actually saying what he prepared, or completely fucking it up. It was currently leaning towards the latter.

“Why did you leave?” Castiel’s voice was small, and that broke Dean seeing him that way.

“Because I was scared that you didn’t want me after you would eventually get to know me. I was living this fantasy life in Charlie’s where I had a home to be and someone to take care of and then when I realized that Charlie was coming back, I panicked,” Dean honestly spoke. “You have to know that I don’t have a home, I don’t have a job, and I don’t have anything attached to my name except for a lifetime of messed up childhood memories and debt. Who would want me to stay?”

“Me,” Castiel confidently responded, looking Dean in the eye for the first time.

“Why?”

“Because you are an exceptional man. You care for others even if you don’t know them. You are humble and modest and you know how to love far deeper than anyone I’ve ever met. All those things that you talk about, those things you see as problems? I don’t care. I want you to stay,” Castiel placed his hand on Dean’s cheek.

He closed his eyes, taking the few seconds he needed to imagine this happening. Staying in Seattle, working under this mysterious Gordon Ramsay like character, and just being in a relationship with this weird, adorable, and fascinating man. Opening his eyes and looking, and really looking at Castiel, his decision was easily made.

Dean leaned into the touch, looking into the eyes of the one he hoped he would never have to leave again, “I’ll stay, and this time, I won’t go.”

* * *

“Do you hear that?” Charlie nudged Gilda in their bed.

“Huh?” Gilda whispered groggily, waking gently from her slumber. 

“I said, do you hear that?” Charlie giddily whispered.

“I can hear you talking, that’s what I hear,” Gilda groaned, turning over.

“No, listen,” Charlie nudged her fiancée again.

Gilda blinked the sleep from her eyes and she listened carefully. She could hear the sound of the wind blowing, a sleeping cat, and her clock ticking the seconds of sleep she could be having, but the eventual soft groans coming from the downstairs suite caught her attention.

“Is that?” Gilda turned over again to face Charlie with wide eyes and a curious expression.

“That is,” Charlie smiled widely.

“They’re having sex right now? It’s three in the morning,” Gilda rolled her tired eyes, but with no malice to it. “Guess that means Cas forgave him.” 

Charlie literally jumped out of bed and did a happy dance, “guess that means I’m the best matchmaker ever.”

Gilda sat up in bed, “you are ridiculous Charlie Bradbury.”

Charlie stopped dorkily dancing, crawling back into bed and kissing Gilda while speaking, “I know, but you love me.”

“I do,” Gilda kissed back. “I’d love you more if you went back to sleep.”

“Shut up,” Charlie laughed, moving a stray strand of hair out of Gilda’s face. “One day, when they get married, I’ll get to tell the story of Dean and Cas, and how I was totally the reason they got together.”

“And I’ll get to tell the story how you used our vacation time as a ruse and pretence to get those two lonely souls together,” Gilda lied back down, snuggling close to Charlie and began to tiredly ramble. “And how you pretended you didn’t know that Cas was gay, or that Dean was bi, or that both were single and ready to mingle, or that both would easily fall in love with each other, but I concede, you really are a great matchmaker. To be honest, I thought all of your nervous laughter would give it away, but I mean, under the right circumstances, if you put two people like that in a house for a week, they are bound to fall in love with each other.”

“But it had to be Dean and Castiel,” Charlie romantically spoke. “It had to be them.”

“It did,” Gilda yawned. “Congratulations, my dear.”

Charlie smiled and pulled Gilda closer, falling back asleep quickly. Downstairs, Dean held Castiel close, whispering promises into Castiel’s skin that he'd make him breakfast and lunch every day, and that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

 


	2. Day 8 Timestamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found this sitting in my drafts! It's not the happiest of chapters, but it is in Castiel's POV.

Castiel could not get his work done fast enough. He had the transport and archive of Balthazar’s tapestries he used for his lecture and then three requisitions to complete later that day. It may not seem like much, but it was the amount of time spent doing paperwork was what made him antsy enough to begin daydreaming about warm kisses and green eyes.

“Castiel? Hello?” Balthazar was apparently snapping his fingers in front of him.

“Sorry, Balthazar.” He immediately became startled in his chair, and a pencil he was holding fell to the floor.

“Stop daydreaming about your boy-toy. I need you to fill this for me,” Balthazar placed a piece of paper in his “in” box. “It’s urgent.”

“I wasn’t.” He leaned down to grab his pencil.

“I know that face, and that’s the ‘I-suck-at-lying-face,’” he gleefully teased. “Either way, glad you have a hot piece of ass to go home to.”

“He’s not just a hot piece of ass.” He glared. “He’s more than that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Balthazar gave him a friendly smile, relenting. “Anyways,” he tapped at the piece of paper. “Take a look as soon as you can.”

After Balthazar left, Castiel reached over at what he was pointing to. At first glance, he thought that the form was a requisition request from their archive, but after looking at the actual header, it was a requisition requesting an item from another institution, which meant more paperwork. Castiel sighed but continued reading until he froze when he read the words “demon tablet.”

“Balthazar!” Castiel literally ran after his boss.

“Took you long enough,” Balthazar dramatically looked at his watch.

“They found it? The demon tablet?” He was a little out of breath, and with his frantic expression mixed with excitement he was definitely a sight to see. “How?!”

“I have a friend who knows a guy at another facility,” his boss said mysteriously. “They are willing to do a little trade. They are going to loan the demon tablet for 3 weeks in exchange for the angel tablet.”

“But I’m not finished with it,” Castiel looked at him, confused. “We’re just over half way, I think.”

“Well, you have three, four days at most to translate the rest of it,” he plainly put it. “Then we have to get it ready to be packed and shipped with all the necessary paperwork.”

Castiel looked down at the requisition form and worried creases filled his face.

“You can do it. You have a team behind you.”

“Yeah, two grad students and an over enthusiastic undergrad named Becky,” Castiel cynically replied.

“Better call them up then. You have no time to lose,” Balthazar made that his last comment, leaving him there in the hallway.

He sighed once more before returning to the archive room. A small headache was starting to develop and he really needed something to drink. But first, phone calls.

“Hey Kevin?” Castiel sighed. “So long story short, I’m going to need you to come in and translate the rest of the tablet in three days. I’ll pay you in pizza.”

* * *

It was eight o’clock.

Castiel wanted to strangle Balthazar.

He also kind of wanted to hug him, though, for even finding the demon tablet, but then again, Castiel could be home doing things other than working. He hoped Dean didn’t mind that he had to stay this late.

Dean.

How could this happen? How could Castiel fall so completely in love with a man just days after meeting him? It was an impossible truth that was difficult to ignore, and he had no idea what to do when Charlie would eventually come back. Would it have been selfish for Castiel to ask Dean to stay? Then again, why would Dean just uproot his life and stay in Seattle just for him? It was crazy! Somewhere along the lines, Castiel would have to prepare for Dean’s imminent departure.

Psh, nah.

That would be dealt with another day.

“Okay, I think I’m going to have a stroke, so I’m heading home,” Kevin put down his pencil with a little too much force and sat back in his chair. “You ready to quit, Cas?”

Castiel wrinkled his nose and looked at their progress. One day down and they had made astonishing work translating the tablet. It looked like fully translating it and the paperwork could be done before the shipping date.

“Time to head home.” Castiel nodded. “You’ve done brilliantly, Kevin. You’ve almost cracked it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kevin cockily replied.

A sudden burst of happy energy hit Castiel knowing who he would be seeing when he returned home, and it gave him enough motivation to gather his things faster than usual. The drive back did nothing to calm his nerves and it seemed to have distracted him from the fact that a certain Impala wasn’t parked in front of Charlie’s house. He only noticed something was off when he parked his car beside Charlie’s in their shared garage.

Opening the door, he honestly expected to see Dean’s smile.

“Oh, hey!” Charlie greeted Cas, hugging him tightly.

“You’re back?” Castiel tilted his head, noticing Gilda just rounding the corner into the kitchen.

“Yeah, we, uh, decided to come back a few days earlier.” She nervously looked at Gilda.

“Oh, okay. Well, welcome back.” He looked back and forth between the two ladies. “Is, um, Dean here?”

Charlie gave Gilda a look, giving him a horrible feeling.

“I’m going to finish unpacking,” Gilda excused herself.  
  
“Um, Cas.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “I hate to tell you this …”

His stomach dropped, and he immediately understood. “He’s gone.”

She took in a deep breath, and the expressions on her face gave him all the confirmation that he needed.

“Cas, you gotta know he didn’t go because he didn’t like you,” she tried to quickly explain, but it wasn’t getting through to him.

“He didn’t say good bye,” Castiel muttered to himself. “Least he could do.”

It was strange. Castiel thought for sure he would be devastated, angry even, but all he felt was numbness. His whole body just felt completely devoid of any emotion. He could hear Charlie talking, but it just seemed to have blurred in his ears. He wondered why he didn’t feel anything. Was it because his mother’s funeral had used up its fair share of emotions? God, why did he have to think of that now? First his mother’s death and now Dean leaving.

“Dean, uh, he told me to tell you this, I don’t know if it means anything to you though,” Charlie began to say, which caught his attention. “He said that you’ll find your Righteous Man one day. It just wasn’t him.”

Castiel turned around at that pointedly looking at Charlie, who looked as hurt as he was.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Charlie looked down.

It was a bad idea going to bed. All he could think of was why Dean would leave. His messed up brain categorized reasons for his departure and things he should have said before he did. Hours went by when his eyes finally closed, but it only seemed like minutes when the bright sun cast its beams in his room, signalling a new day. Castiel turned over in his bed and faced the man with the sharp jawline and emerald green eyes.

“I told you I would wait for you,” Dean smiled softly, inching closer to Castiel and sealing the space with a kiss.

“Don’t leave. Stay. I want you to stay,” Castiel whispered, placing his hand on Dean’s cheek.

“I’ll stay.”

Castiel blinked the sleep out of his eyes, the hushed whispers fading away from his mind with tears now threatening to fill the silence. So it goes.


End file.
